HandMeDown Clothes
by Quillitch
Summary: AU: "By Merlin, Albus! That boy must be moved!" What if Dumbledore took Harry away from no.4 Privet Drive, with its perfectly pruned shrubs and colour co-ordinated flower beds, to somewhere he could call home...
1. Of Beginnings

Oh no! I gave in, I had to do it… here you go; an Alternate Universe fic, may you all forgive me!

Disclaimer: Copyright belongs exclusively to J K Rowling, it is not my intention to make any financial profit from this fic, and please don't sue me for hideous manipulation of the _actual_ Harry Potter timeline and characters!

****

Hand-Me-Down Clothes

Of Beginnings

'Albus! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: that boy must be moved!'

'Arabella, as long as they stop short of actually abusing the boy…'

'Oh honestly, Albus! Have your brains turned to mush? Little boys, _children_, need care, love and attention. Not just a roof over his head, hand-me-down clothes, and food!'

'There's nothing wrong with hand-me-down clothes, I remember one time myself when-'

'The boys are the same age! Every year we have this same conversation Albus, and every ruddy year _you do_ _nothing _at all!' angrily exclaimed Arabella. There was a tense pause before Albus replied calmly:

'Being poor is not a good reason to remove Harry from their care.'

'_What _care? By Merlin, would you _listen_ to me?'

'Arabella,' warned Albus, frowning.

'Shut up or I'll hex you into next week, Albus! They are _not_ poor, they _can_ afford to give him clothes of his own, and they can _even_ afford to have a gardener but that's little Harry's job. One of them! Now I am sick and tired of arguing with you Albus, you sit there in your cosy little office, running that school of yours but it's time you came down and mucked in with the rest of us!'

'Arabella!'

'Did I say you could speak yet? Right then, I suggest that either you come down and see for yourself-'

'Or?'

'_Or_ I decide to inform Minerva and Hagrid of little Harry's plight.'

'Ah.' Both of them were aware that where young Harry Potter was concerned, Minerva McGonagall tended to be a little irrational, and Hagrid, who had literally adored the deceased Lilly and James Potter, was fiercely protective of their orphaned child.

'Would it kill you to come and have a look Albus? It wouldn't be suspicious, you'd just be checking up on the boy- _as you should be_.'

'Arabella, I don't believe I have much choice, I will write to the Dursleys immediately.'

'No, don't do that Albus, I don't trust them as far as I could throw them, and that's not far at all considering how fat that young brat is. If you warn them, Harry will be forced to tell you lies by that pompous arse of a man Vernon.'

'Arabella!' laughed Albus trying to look reproving.

'I'm serious Albus, the man gets right up my nose, too bad he's a muggle or I'd challenge him to a duel -that'd teach him. Arrive tomorrow morning at 9am, it's Saturday so I know you'll be free.'

There was a popping noise like a cork exploding from its bottle and Arabella Figg's head disappeared from within the lime green flames, and the fire once again roared red and orange.

Albus Dumbledore was seated in a comfortable looking armchair beside his huge stone fireplace, he had long silvery white hair, an equally long beard, and wore burgundy robes with gold trimming, upon his crooked nose sat a pair of half moon glasses, behind which a pair of bright blue eyes sparkled. A tiny smile curved his lips and creased the laughter lines around his eyes, Arabella had never had any qualms about ordering him around and putting him in his place when his ego got too big; in her opinion. Abruptly he clapped his hands and with a loud crack a house-elf appeared in front of him, dressed in a pillow case with the Hogwarts crest, its great big green eyes turned upon him.

'Ah it's Paddy yes?' Albus was rewarded by a reverent nod. 'Would you mind asking Professor McGonagall to come and see me at her earliest convenience.'

'Yes sir. Of course sir! Is sir wanting anything else, Professor Dumbledore sir?'

'No thank you, Paddy, that is all. Incidentally would you like a sherbet lemon?'

'Oh no Sir!' said the house-elf looking properly shocked at this breach of protocol.

'Are you sure? They are quite lovely!' And as if to demonstrate his point Albus Dumbledore popped one into his mouth. 'Mmm-mmm,' he narrated joyfully and the house-elf looked wistfully at the red and gold paper bag in Dumbledore's hand.

* * *

'Po'esssssor Mc'onagarll, Padday hasss a messarge fawr 'ou fwrom Ssumsoresaw.'

'Good grief! What on earth! Paddy why are you speaking like that?' Minerva McGonagall peered over her square glasses at the sheepish looking house-elf.

'Sssweetsayy Po'esssor,' Paddy explained with a dribbling lisp.

'What? No never mind, what did the Headmaster say?'

'Polissse cans 'ou ssee 'im twwwo-nise.'

'Police? Oh- please?.'

''essss.'

'Stop hissing Paddy, you sound like a serpent. Now then… oh I think I understand. He wishes to see me?'

''ess 'oo 'ite!'

''oo 'ite?" blinked McGonagall, surfing in the confusing waves of obscurity.

''ess!'

'Oh dear, I'll just go and see him now I think.'

''ess!' grinned a successful Paddy, and slurped.

The next moment Paddy was alone again, as the Professor swept, slightly irritably, out. He made his way back down to the kitchens sucking on the hard lemon flavoured sweet Dumbledore had given him, and finding it quite agreeable.

* * *

'Headmaster?'

'Minerva! Pull up a chair, do!'

'_Did_ you ask for me?'

'Yes I did. Sherbet lemon?'

'No thank you, Albus,' answered Minerva McGonagall, looking disapproving at the very idea of sherbet lemons. She sat down in the adjacent armchair, its worn arms wriggled till she could rest her arms on them comfortably.

'I shall be absent tomorrow, you'll have the school to yourself whilst I am away.'

'Away! Doing what?'

'Oh this and that, this and that.' Albus popped another sherbet lemon into his mouth, and avoided his colleague's eyes.

'Albus, you haven't been away during term since your grandfather's funeral, need I remind you how long ago that was?'

'Hmm…I'm off to see Arabella actually,' he admitted.

'There's nothing wrong with Harry is there? I always _said_ you shouldn't have left him with those muggles! Is he very badly hurt? Are you bringing him back here? Perhaps you should take Poppy with you, are you going to inform the Ministry? What-'

'_Minerva!_ I'm just going to check up on the boy, that's all. I'm sure he's fine!'

'Check up on? Albus, it's been 6 years and all of a sudden you are going to "check up" on him?'

'Trust me Minerva.' There was an audible sound of gnawing teeth.

'I really _dislike_ it when you say that Albus, it gives me an _incredibly_ bad feeling.'

'Perhaps you have a hereto undiscovered talent for divination, Professor.'

'Albus, I do _not_ appreciate that,' glared an indignant McGonagall.

'I do apologise Minerva,' gallantly offered Dumbledore.

'Nor that,' snapped the esteemed Transfiguration Professor, and forwned at his suspiciously innocent face. After a while she relented and smiled, Albus was sometimes quite senile, and had a habit of gently teasing you, she stood up, ready to leave. 'And please stop giving the house-elves sweets! You'll rot their teeth!'

* * *

It was a dry and warm morning on Privet Drive, the sky was the kind of blue you normally only see in storybooks or badly written poetry, and thin wisps of grey-white cloud stretched across the horizon. In number eight of Privet Drive in the sitting room, there was a distortion in the air and then there suddenly stood a man with an unusual amount of white hair.

'You're late,' said the old woman sourly, from the doorway where she leant on a crutch, a black cat wound around her ankles and hissed at the visitor.

'Good morning, Arabella.'

'Don't patronise me Albus,' ordered that elderly lady as she moved forward to receive his welcoming hug. 'You can go straight across to number four, they're all at home today, what _on earth are you wearing?'_

'Muggle clothing, I can't go around in my wizarding robes. Are they appropriate?' Albus raised a busy white eyebrow at her in query.

'Oh yes, definitely muggle clothing, a very accurate representation of what they wore _100 years ago_!' The old lady tut-tutted in mock despair as Albus looked mildly surprised- he was wearing clothes from the Jane Austin period, complete with gold waistcoat watch and black ebony cane.

Arabella frowned in concentration for a moment and then waved her wand, a wave of purple light starting from his toes and then rising up, and the white waistcoat beneath the black two-tailed jacket and the black trousers disappeared, to be replaced with a smart navy blue suit, without tie.

'Much better, now if only I had a camera,' she smirked, smiling at him in his muggle suit and long white beard and hair. 'Now off you go, I have to feed my cats.' She shooed him out into the hallway, 'And mind you stay _all day_!'

'Of course Arabella,' placated Dumbledore, and tripped over the black cat as he opened the front door. He noticed that his shoes were lace-ups, black, shiny and had absolutely no heel on them as the black tomcat sunk his claws into them with enthusiasm.

'Blackie! Come _here, _Blackie. Breakfast is ready!' called Arabella and the said monster nimbly got up and chased an imaginary mouse all the way toward its owner's voice.

Albus Dumbledore quickly made his way across and down the street till he reached number four of Privet Drive, it had perfectly pruned shrubs lining the drive way and bunches of carefully selected colour co-ordinated flowers in weeded plots with neatly trimmed verges. Such perfectionism was surely an art, he advanced upon the average boring brown front door and pressed the doorbell which made the perfectly normal 'Ding Doing' sound. Inside he could hear sounds of activity, a muggle television, a hoover upstairs, and the clinking of cups in what he presumed was the kitchen.

'Mum! The doorbell just rang!' yelled a youth's voice.

'Harry!' screeched a woman, presumably the youth's mother. 'Get the door!' The hoover stopped, there was a light run down some stairs and then the door was flung open.

'Hello,' warily smiled a seven year old Harry Potter at him.

* * *

A/N: so should I continue or not? Is this fic to be or not to be? lol


	2. Petunia Decides

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Hand-Me-Down-Clothes

Petunia Decides

"Hello" warily smiled a seven year old Harry Potter at a one hundred and forty seven year old Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello" warmly replied Dumbledore, and bent down to be on the same eye level "You must be Mister Harry Potter" 

Young Harry Potter pushed his messy hair out of his eyes and eagerly inquired:

"Have you come to visit me?" he swung the front door wide open, and then had second thoughts 

"Wait, no…you're here about Mrs Kenmore aren't you?" the door quickly swung back again. 

"I'm afraid not, though I am here to see you. Who is Mrs Kenmore?" and _why_ are you looking so apprehensive about her Dumbledore wondered.

"Mrs Kenmore's my primary school teacher, she _really_ doesn't like me, she's _horrible, _but it wasn't my fault! I mean, I was at the other end of the class room, I don't see how she _could_ blame it on me, just because she was yelling at _me_ when…" Harry trailed off looking rather sorrowful 

"When?" prodded Dumbledore, finding himself rather intrigued. 

"When her hair changed colour" gloomily explained Mister Harry Potter

"It changed colour…?" Dumbledore prompted, his lips twitching behind his moustache.

"It turned blue" further offered that serious young man

"Blue?" Dumbledore tried to hide a smile but his voice quavered.

"It was brown before" Harry informed him earnestly, heaving a very grown up sigh.

"Was it a _very_ bright blue?" asked Dumbledore, smiling openly at the suddenly rather abashed little boy.

"Ye-ees" admitted Harry embarrassed, staring at his worn shoes, Dumbledore frowned, noticing how big they were for him, he opened his mouth to ask Harry if he might perhaps come in rather than stand on the doorstep all day when a shrill voice erupted from the kitchen. 

"_Harry! _What _are_ you doing? Who is it?" 

Harry jumped, startled, "Oh no! That's Aunt Petunia! Um, who _are_ you Sir?"

"I am Albus Dumbledore," said Albus obligingly, with a gentle twinkle in his eyes.

"Okay" Harry smiled shyly in response "I'll just tell Aunt Petunia" 

"May I come in?" quickly asked Dumbledore before his host could disappear 

Harry's eyes widened, looking worried he cast a glance over his shoulder at the kitchen "If you want to" he said reluctantly standing aside.

"Of course, of course!" Albus Dumbledore chuckled and stepped into the Dursleys hallway.

"Please, come and sit down in the living room, I'll tell Aunt Petunia you're here" Harry opened a white door to his right and then ran off toward the kitchen, Albus, pleased with his first encounter with Lily and James' son, took a curious look around. 

The living room had one beige settee, two beige armchairs and a wooden stool, a polished coffee table sat plump in the middle behind which, embedded in the wall, was a plastic mould of coals in a marble tiled mantelpiece. Pictures hung from flowery-papered walls, big pictures, and small pictures, expensively framed and gleaming with cleanliness, the fire mantelpiece included several smaller pictures (as well as the odd china bluebird and one postcard). 

Being a harmless old man (admittedly perhaps just nosy) Albus viewed the pictures intently, and not being quite as old and senile, as he'd like people to believe, he soon noticed something amiss. There were many, many pictures of a rather well-built boy, with short blond hair and rather small watery blue eyes, either on his own (striking various poses) or with his mother (being vigorously hugged) and father (a proud pat on the shoulder). The large family portrait was hung on the opposite wall from the window (to catch the best light); Vernon Dursley stood frowning majestically forward, Petunia Dursley with her long nose slightly elevated and Dudley Dursley, grinning happily with his bow tie almost hidden beneath his double chin. 

Yet where was young Harry? Albus could not see one picture of Harry James Potter anywhere; there was not a single sign that anyone else lived here other than the three Dursleys. An uneasy feeling of foreboding troubled Albus as he viewed the ostentatious family portrait, scratching his long beard and hoping that Arabella was wrong, not for his sake but the boy's.

"How dare you" hissed an angry voice from the open doorway, interrupting his contemplation, "get out of my house!"

Albus Dumbledore turned to regard Petunia Dursley and vaguely smiled as he bowed in greeting.

"Good morning Mrs Dursley. I am here to check upon Mr Harry Potter's well being. My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -I don't know if Lily ever mentioned me?" he enquired politely. 

The wind was taken right out of Mrs Dursley's metaphorical sails, her righteous anger deflated and she tried to recover herself.

"I, uh, I don't remember that she did"

"Hmm, a pity, both Lily and James made me the executor of their will, it was my responsibility to see young Harry re-homed when they died, I believe I left a letter explaining the circumstances. As such however, I feel that it is high time I remembered my obligations to the boy"

"O- of course" blinked Mrs Dursley, floundering in the face of a stream of official sounding explanations.

"Therefore I am sure you will have no objections to my spending the day with Harry Potter…" Albus ploughed on regardless of her stuttering

"Spending the day..." weakly repeated Petunia, behind her Harry nervously peeked through the doorway at Albus.

"Thank you Mrs Dursley, your co-operation is much appreciated" benignly smiled Dumbledore.

"It is? Oh, well, good, I mean, what? Spend the day with… Harry? _Harry!_ The Boy? Oh no." Mrs Dursley looked somewhat dismayed as she stared at Albus Dumbledore; it appeared her beleaguered brain had finally caught up with the conversation. 

"Well, if you must, you must, but I warn you! He's a naughty like boy, constantly in trouble and always telling fibs" she crossed her arms and glared at Dumbledore to prove her wrong. Behind her lingered still, seven-year-old Harry Potter and a more downcast face you would be hard put to find when he heard his Aunt's words uttered to the kindly visitor. 

"Oh, well, I can't quite believe that, no, no not at all," said Albus firmly, his eyes fixed on the pale little face by the door, and there was a twinkle in them when Harry jerked his head up, a hopeful little smile twitching his mouth. 

"Hurumph!" sneered Petunia Dursley in response, she turned to leave with a muttered "Do what you want with him" but was stopped by Albus' deceptively soft voice querying 

"Why is it Mrs Dursley, that there is not one picture of Harry in this room?"

Mrs Dursley stilled, then with a twist of her pursed lips she mumbled 

"The boy's camera shy" to which Albus Dumbledore only raised an expressive eyebrow in a rather sardonic response.

On her way out Petunia Dursley clipped Harry's ears for "letting strangers in", but the little boy flinched only automatically it seemed, for his large emerald eyes shone with childish innocence as he followed Dumbledore's movements with a kind of reverence.

"Come in Harry, come in" Dumbledore beckoned, and Harry, looking a little self-conscious walked in to stand a good metre away from Albus, who was, without realising it, frowning slightly as he cast a critical eye over Harry's attire. 

Harry was wearing a pair of Dudley's old trousers, they had holes in the knees, were frayed at the ankles and were looking patchy and thin, his shirt, although tucked in had simply too much material to be contained and so hung down almost to his knees. 

His wire-framed glasses had been broken so many times by Dudley and his gang that only sellotape was holding all the various bits together. His shoes were boats beneath the bagginess of his clothes and his hair looked as though the only scissors it had ever seen was the kitchen knife. 

Looking closer, Dumbledore saw that twine was wrapped several times around Harry's waist and knotted tight to hold up his humongous trousers, and there was the faintest suggestion of a shadow on his left temple, just the slightest coloration that made Albus Dumbledore's frown deepen ominously.

"Please sir?" whispered a timid voice

"Yes?" Dumbledore practically growled, Harry jumped back alarmed and Dumbledore quickly recovered his previous good-humour.

"Sorry Harry. What is it?"

"I was just wondering why you were staring so hard at me sir"

"It's been a long time since I last saw you Harry Potter. Now, to business! I have come all the way from Scotland to spend the day with you Harry-"

"Why?" interrupted that young fellow blandly, Dumbledore was stumped for a moment.

"Why? Well, why not? But to tell the truth, I was a great friend of your Mummy and Daddy, and they would have wanted me to come and see you" he winced inwardly and the deception, but it would hardly do to tell the boy he'd come because he'd been ordered to.

"Oh, okay" said Harry trustingly

"Well, how about I introduce myself properly. I am Albus Dumbledore, and you are?" Dumbledore held out his hand formally, Harry fearlessly reached forward and placed his much littler hand in it.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said simply and solemnly, taking the moment very seriously indeed, and they shook hands.

"Will you sit down with me Harry Potter" Dumbledore smiled unthreateningly and sat down on the beige settee, its worn springs sunk a little under his meagre weight. Harry nodded, and ran across the room to pick up the little wooden stool that Dumbledore had noticed earlier, silently he trotted back and placed it at Dumbledore's feet, whereupon he sat on it. Albus Dumbledore blinked

"Is that what you usually sit on?" he asked unbelievingly

"Yes sir" replied Harry squirming under the somewhat fierce gaze.

"Well not today, come and sit up here with me" Dumbledore patted the cushion beside him invitingly and Harry, beaming, was quick to leap up and settle himself down beside the old man. The difference between the two was striking, Albus was a full grown man with a shock of white hair and a long beard, Harry was just a child, and his hair was jet-black, short and shaggy.

"What would you like to do today Harry?" Dumbledore looked down at his small companion questioningly; Harry's round little face tilted up to him

"I don't know sir"

"How about you show me around where you live, we could start with the house, and then the garden and then maybe we could go to the park…?" 

"Go to the park!" Harry grinned suddenly "Yes sir!" he exclaimed enthusiastically and gave a little bounce on the settee.

"You don't have to call me 'sir' Harry, you can call me…" Albus trailed off, he was a little lost, children generally called him 'Headmaster' or 'Professor Dumbledore', but little Harry Potter didn't know about Hogwarts, and wouldn't until he was old enough to be able to understand…

"Mr Dumbledore" suggested Harry breaking into Dumbledore's meditations

"Hmm, yes that will do me very well. Thank you Harry" Albus Dumbledore smiled at Harry's evident pleasure at being praised, "Now, where shall we start the 'Grande Tour'?"

"My cupboard of course!" said Harry jumping up impulsively

"You mean your bedroom Harry" corrected Albus, laughing

"No" Harry's emerald eyes were bright with excitement as he grabbed Mr Dumbledore's hand "I meant my cupboard, come on!"

Author's Notes: Wow, I got an amazing response to the first chapter, so how could I not continue it? I hope this chapter pleases all, I wish I had the time to do personal thank you notes to everyone who reviewed, but suffice to say I was honoured by the enthusiastic replies to my question 'to be or not to be', **Thank You!**


	3. Spoilt Rotten Neglected Waif

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Hand-Me-Down Clothes

Spoilt Rotten or Neglected Waif

As an enthusiastic Harry Potter pulled Dumbledore out of the sitting room, a fat boy came racing down the stairs and purposely bumped into Harry in the hallway.

"Ooops!" the boy exclaimed, clearly not sorry at all for knocking the smaller, by far thinner boy into the wall.

"Who are you?" he then asked of Dumbledore, casting a curious look at the man who wore a banker's suit with a bushy long white beard and hair to rival Father Christmas' own. 

"I am Mr Dumbledore," replied Albus, giving his best disapproving stare over his half moon spectacles, "You must be Dudley Dursley."

"Yep. Are you a friend of Dad's?"

"I am here to visit Harry," explained Dumbledore, leaving the question of whether he was a friend or not of Vernon Dursley's for later, after he had inspected Harry's room and life in general.

"_Harry_!" snorted Dudley, "Why'd you want to visit _him?_"

"I knew Harry's mum and dad, and I am his guardian if anything should ever happen to your parents."

Dudley just wrinkled his nose, as if Harry was a bad smell, throughout the conversation he had blatantly ignored Harry's presence, except for knocking him into the wall that is.

"Dudley!" Petunia Dursley had opened the kitchen door on hearing her son's voice, "Come in here Darling, Mummy's got an ice lolly for you!" She glared at Dumbledore with barely concealed hatred, and after Dudley had eagerly gone in behind her she snapped, "You leave my son alone, 'Mr Dumbledore'!" and slammed the door to.

Harry stayed still for a moment, leaning against the wall in his over sized clothes, apparently deep in thought, and sighed, looking rather disconsolate.

"What is it Harry?" queried Dumbledore, perceiving that something was on his little friend's mind.

"_I'd_ like an ice lolly." 

"Well, why don't you ask for one?" smiled Dumbledore.

"I'm not allowed them." Harry shrugged, then moved away from the wall, Dumbledore's smile had faded at that simple little statement that showed so much about Harry's life. 

"This is my bedroom," Harry flashed a quick smile at Dumbledore as he lifted the latch of a small door, that appeared to be a cupboard or perhaps a place to hang coats, beneath the Dursleys stairs.

The door, a sloping flimsy one, wallpapered to blend in with the rest of the hallway, was pulled open and Harry disappeared inside, Dumbledore stood in the hall, utterly confused.

"Harry?"

"In here!" called Harry, and Dumbledore could see his feet sticking out, he was evidently sitting on something inside what looked to be a little storage facility. Dumbledore, puzzled, walked up and stuck his head in cautiously, inside, Harry was sat on a small fold up bed, there was a shelf nailed just above its head and a long dangling switch to an overhead light.

"Come and sit down!" Harry patted the bed beside him and Dumbledore obligingly ducked his head and placed his weight warily on the aged looking bed, his head banged the ceiling, so he sat with his back humped, Harry giggled. 

"Well I'm glad you think it's funny," complained Dumbledore, mock glaring at Harry, and rubbing his sore head, the ceiling in here sloped accordingly to the stairs, so that there was less height towards the end of the bed. 

"I presume this is your playroom?" Dumbledore inquired.

"This is my bedroom." Harry looked around, surveying the slightly musty cupboard thoughtfully, but proudly, it was, after all, his own.

"Yes, but where do you _actually_ sleep?" Dumbledore patiently asked.

"Here!" replied Harry, looking surprised at such a strange question.

"Here?" Dumbledore repeated, tilting his head, "Be serious Harry, I'm asking you where you sleep, where all your clothes and belongings are stored."

Without a word, Harry got down and knelt on the small patch of floor beside the bed, reaching beneath he pulled out a pair of mustard yellow socks many many sizes too big, a few pairs of pants, a pair of trousers, stopping to pull a spider off. A school shirt, a hairbrush with the majority of its bristles missing and a faded denim jacket, he placed them all on the bed and then patted down the bed to locate his hand-me-down pyjamas, which he presented to Dumbledore as proof that he slept here.

Dumbledore took the pyjamas, they were thin, having been worn many times by another owner, but soft, cotton presumably, he was trying to understand what he was seeing, trying to make sense of it, knowing that there must be a logical explanation.

"I suppose that you have to stay here, just for the moment, because they're redecorating upstairs?" Dumbledore smiled assuredly at Harry, who still knelt on the floor at his feet.

"No Mr Dumbledore, I always stay here, this is my bedroom," Harry was now confused, because Mr Dumbledore kept asking the same sort of questions, and ignoring Harry's answer.

"This is where you have slept for the last six years?" Dumbledore asked again.

"Yes Mister."

"This cupboard is your bedroom?"

"Yes Mr Dumbledore."

"You sleep here every night?"

"Yes Mister."

"_This_ is your bedroom!" Dumbledore's hands twisted the material in his grasp, a dreadful certainty was growing in his mind, and he could feel the onset of his anger like an irresistible tide, pulling him in.

"Tell me, Harry, where does you cousin sleep, can you show me that, please?"

"Yes Mr Dumbledore."

Harry got up with a bounce that showed he was still small enough not to worry about knocking his head, Dumbledore followed somewhat more carefully. They headed up the stairs to a deeply carpeted landing, five doors were immediately apparent, one stood ajar, another was open and was obviously the bathroom. Harry led Dumbledore to the adjacent door upon which was scrawled a childish sign saying 'Dudley's Bedroom', inside the room was messy and full of various things in a state of general disarray, as if the child here had a short attention span. The bed had been made and Dumbledore noticed it had a bright, attractive 'Spider-Man' cover, the walls were covered in big posters sporting fancy logos and various comic book heroes. 

Someone had evidently made an attempt to tidy up; CD's were piled up alphabetically beside a gaily-lit stereo, Game Boy games were stacked alongside a big sweetie jar and a silver-grey toy robot, on top of a set of drawers. Moving forward Dumbledore curiously opened one of the drawers and found it full of clean clothes, some in neat rows, others completely jumbled up, but all of it of the finest quality and the latest fashion. He carefully made his way back to the doorway where Harry had remained, this was a child's bedroom as it should be he thought, as he prised a sticky sweet wrapper from his boot and asked Harry:

"This is your Cousin Dudley's bedroom?"

"Yes."

"I see. The three other doors lead to your Aunt and Uncle's room and…?"

"And the spare bedroom," supplied Harry politely, "for when Aunt Marge comes to stay."

"Does Aunt Marge come to stay often?"

"No, about twice a year, sometimes she brings her dog." Harry made a hideous face, indicating that Aunt Marge wasn't his favourite person in the whole world by a long shot, he made Dumbledore smile. They opened the spare bedroom door to view a room over decorated in the theme of flowers, possibly marigolds, although the artist had been a little liberal with his artistic license. 

Dumbledore quickly closed the door again, seeing nothing of interest, and that left only one door unexplored, he opened it to find another room, but what a room! Hardly a space to be seen for the gadgets and toys that had been flung in there, most of it was broken or bent, only some jigsaws and books seemed to have survived the mass mutilation. 

"Dudley's playroom," said Harry, peering beneath Dumbledore's arm that was still holding the door open (against the weight of a birdcage behind it).

"Why don't you have this room, for your bedroom Harry?" wondered Dumbledore aloud, not really expecting an answer to his question.

"Because I'm a freak," said Harry quietly.

There was a silence, Dumbledore stood very still, holding open the door to a room that contained the diary of a spoiled child, whilst standing beside a neglected child, his hand was slowly tightening it's hold on the door handle, knuckles showing white.

"They do a lot for me, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, a roof over my head and food, I should be grateful." Harry didn't sound particularly grateful, but he did sound sad, as if he believed this was all he was worth.

The silence continued, Albus Dumbledore could not believe what he had seen today, nor what he had heard, an iron weight in his belly was reminding him of Lilly and James Potter's love for their child when they had been alive. He felt incredibly guilty that he had allowed this to happen, that this was the first time he had thought to check up on Harry in six years, and that he had betrayed Lilly and James' trust in him.

"I mean, they could have just taken me to the orphanage, and I would have been like Oliver Twist, wearing rags and having to work."

At this Dumbledore awoke from his bitter self-recriminations.

"Rags? You _are_ wearing rags Harry!"

"They're not that bad Mr Dumbledore!" protested Harry weakly, trying to unsuccessfully tuck his overflowing shirt in again, Dumbledore released the door from his iron hold and knelt in front of the young boy.

"Do you like it here Harry? Do you feel safe and happy?" he took hold of the boy's shirt and folded it before tucking it beneath the twine that acted as a belt for Harry. 

Harry was silent, before shrugging unhelpfully.

"Do you remember your parents Harry? They loved you very much." 

"No Mr."

"You don't remember what happened?" Dumbledore actually very much hoped not, Harry had been very young though, just one year old.

"The car crash? No, although sometimes I think I remember a flash of green light, I don't know why."

"A car crash?" exclaimed Dumbledore, confused.

"That's how my mum and dad died," Harry explained practically.

"No Harry, your parents did not die in an accident!"

"Oh," said Harry, rather briefly, Dumbledore sighed and started from the beginning again.

"Do you like it here Harry?" he held Harry's eyes with his own, raising an eyebrow in query.

"Not very much Mr Dumbledore," Harry blushed, as if this was a shameful thing to say, Dumbledore smiled, encouraged to be getting somewhere.

"Well, I don't like it very much either Mr Harry Potter, what say we do something about it!"

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"You don't have to live here Harry, in fact I would rather you didn't. I can't particularly see them changing their minds over the way they treat you." Dumbledore muttered the last to himself under his breath.

"I think it's time I had another word with your Aunt Petunia," he told Harry in a determined tone of voice, and standing, he took Harry's hand and they marched back down the stairs, towards the kitchens, and freedom…

Author's Notes: Hi everyone, have finally got this up, sorry that it took so long, really hope that you enjoy it, but must now go sleep because am ZZZzzzzz, sorry wazzzup, uh, ahhh yes *snore*, um, **Thank You to ALL Reviewers** you guys inspire me and make me smile (none have yet made me cry (thankfully!). Keep it up, I enjoy the comments and c/c.


	4. You're a Wizard Harry

****

Hand-Me-Down Clothes

'You're a Wizard Harry!'

Despite being known as a man of calm temperament and congenial moods Albus Dumbledore was for once truly rattled. Rattled is of course a term Albus would use, whilst we would be more likely to say, raging, and then find some place else to be. 

It was perhaps unfortunate that Vernon Dursley had arrived home whilst Albus and his young tour guide had been exploring upstairs, and was now in the kitchen being briefed by his wife. He didn't sound particularly happy, and whilst Harry was not be seen as a coward he had a healthy dose of fear towards an angry Vernon, and was beginning to lag behind on his new found friend's hand. 

'Harry?' asked Dumbledore. 'Is that your Uncle Vernon?'

Harry nodded emphatically, looking longingly at his cupboard, where they now stood. In the kitchen a hippo roared. Sorry, that would be Vernon, Dumbledore looked, if anything, pleased to hear it.

'Good,' he smiled.

Harry gave his a look that said he was off his rocker, and then tentatively asked,

'Are you really going to take me away from here, Mr Dumbledore?'

'Absolutely Harry, as soon as I can.'

'Oh,' said a suddenly unenthusiastic Harry, envisaging an angry Uncle Vernon and no one to left to protect him.

Dumbledore looked at the suddenly downcast little boy and was struck by an inspiration.

'Or,' he said, 'I can take you away with me now, if you want me to.'

'Yes please!' Harry looked up hopefully and tried to look like a well-behaved little boy, who was perfect for being 'taken away'.

'Well then, first things first... ' Dumbledore took an exaggerated deep breath for Harry's benefit and pushed open the kitchen door, beside him Harry moved closer but followed.

Inside Vernon Dursley stood listening to his wife, who, facing the door, saw Dumbledore first, and the alarmed expression on her face immediately informed Vernon Dursley, who swung around and did something extremely stupid. He hit Albus Dumbledore.

Harry cried out in alarm for his friend Mr Dumbledore as soon as he saw Uncle Vernon's meaty fist rise and fall towards the older man, but his cry died gurgling in his throat as suddenly Uncle Vernon was on the floor, clutching his hand and weeping like a little boy. Surprised, Harry stared at Mr Dumbledore who appeared untouched and completely calm and collected as he regarded the man curled up on the floor, Aunt Petunia was shrieking for her husband to tell her what was wrong, but Vernon Dursley just kept on crying like a baby.

Harry cautiously tugged on Mr Dumbledore's sleeve, 'Are you Superman?' he whispered, eyes wide in awe. 

'Who is soupa man?' Dumbledore asked.

'SupER Man,' corrected Harry. 'How can you not know who Superman is?'

Dumbledore chuckled, thinking about the differences between the muggle and the magical worlds and musing briefly on how he was going to explain it all to seven year old Harry.

'Well, you are very old,' said Harry thoughtfully, as if that explained everything, Dumbledore blinked in surprise, oddly put out by this observation. 'Superman is a hero, he can fly and he's super strong!'

'I'm not old,' was all Dumbledore said. Harry looked at him strangely, and Dumbledore drew his busy brows together in a frown, 'I mean 147 isn't so old. I'm still youthful, full of energy, up to appreciating a compliment from a pretty lady...'

'One huuuuunnddrreeed and forty SEVEN!' yelped Harry, gaping at Dumbledore, 'Nobodies _that_ old!'

'I am!' protested Dumbledore, completely caught up in their little conversation.

'You're _ancient!' _said Harry, staring at Dumbledore as if he were some sort of museum artefact from bygones. 'You could die at _any_ minute...' Harry backed away slightly, as if waiting for Dumbledore to collapse.

'Now hang on!' said Dumbledore, bristling, 'I am _not_ going to die _any _time soon!' 

Harry, whose eyes had started to water in fear of his hero's oncoming demise, promptly brightened up.

'You're not?'

'I'm not,' clarified Dumbledore firmly.

Harry gave a little jump for joy and leapt forward to embrace Mr Dumbledore around the waist, hanging on tightly he sniffled a little as Dumbledore, surprised, hugged him awkwardly back.

'What - have - you - _done_ - to - my - husband?' snapped a furious Petunia, interrupting them.

'Nothing permanent, although I imagine that he will need to see a doctor,' said Dumbledore. 'Some of the bones in his hand will undoubtedly be broken. I can heal them if you would like?' he stepped forward, raising a long thin stick of wood at Vernon Dursley, but Petunia Dursley flung herself in front of the large bulk of her husband.

'_You've done enough damage, you unnatural abomination, now get out of my house!' _she screamed the last at Dumbledore, who winced a little but otherwise ignored it, Harry however ran in front of Mr Dumbledore and shouted right back at his Aunt.

'Leave him alone!'

Dumbledore went to place his hand on Harry's shoulder and gently but firmly guide him out of the way, when something happened that shocked him so, he was bereft of speech or action for some moments. 

Petunia Dursley raised her hand and struck Harry. She hit him so hard across the face that he was knocked from his feet and smashed to the floor.

It took Harry a moment to raise his head, and in that moment Dumbledore tasted true rage, a bitter taste in his mouth and a roaring in his head, his eyes burning blue ice and before he knew it he was raising his own hand, his wand forgotten, ready to deliver a terrible blow. Yet he looked down at just this moment and saw Harry, with blood trickling from his mouth, clearly dazed, but watching, and looked up and saw Petunia Dursley cowering from him in his rage, and he lowered his hand, ashamed.

His anger melted away, his heart ceased pounding and he bought himself under control, quietly he knelt beside Harry and took the little boy's cheek in his hand, murmuring soothing words he healed the wounds caused by ignorance and fear. Gently he gathered the child into his arms and lifted him up as he stood, Harry was far too light, a bundle of sticks in a sack, he was in shock and shaking, and clung to him like a life line, Petunia Dursley was huddled in the furthest corner of the kitchen, still terrified of Dumbledore's fury. Dumbledore withdrew his wand and without asking permission reduced the pain in Vernon Dursley's hand for long enough that he could listen and understand him.

'It has become quite clear to me that you are unfit to take care of Harry. Your extreme and illogical fear of magic has made you unreasonable to the point of... madness,' Dumbledore paused for a moment, his restrained rage giving him clarity.

'I am taking Harry Potter from your care and from this day henceforward you are no longer his guardians, nor his family. I will not press charges against you for the abuse that Harry has suffered in your _care_, but be warned, that forever, from this day forward, shall my eye be upon you, and if you _ever _mistreat a child again I will know about it, and my wrath shall be great!'

So saying, Dumbledore turned and left the kitchen, as the door shut behind him a thudding on the stairs showed that Dudley had been listening in and was now retreating for fear of being noticed.

'Is there anything you wish to take with you Harry? Any thing special?'

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head, he didn't want to risk getting down from this reassuring embrace to pick up a few pairs of socks and the odd misshapen toy solder.

Nodding, Albus Dumbledore quickly strode to the front door, pausing for a moment on the open threshold, 'Take a last look Harry, because you are _never _coming back here.'

Harry peeked over his saviour's shoulder into the murky hallway lined with family pictures, in not one was he included, and he thought about his Aunt and Uncle and his Cousin, and he was not sorry to leave them, they had never given him anything accept pain, shame and humiliation.

'I'm glad Mr Dumbledore,' he said, and rested his small head on the man's chest, 'I'm glad.'

Dumbledore stepped out into the sunshine, the golden light warmed them both, caressing chilled faces and cheering up their sagging spirits, but the perfectly arranged and tended garden of number four suddenly seemed unbearably stifling to Dumbledore.

He quickly stepped out onto the pavement of Privet Drive and began walking, heading towards Arabella's home, Dumbledore gave a spontaneous hop-skippety-jump and Harry stopped trying to bury his head in Dumbledore's suit to giggle. 

'Oh you think that's funny do you? Wait till you see my horse impression!' Dumbledore twisted Harry around so that the child was clinging to his back, 'Are you ready?'

'Uh huh,' said Harry slightly apprehensively.

'Heeeeere we go!' cried Dumbledore, and began to skip down the road, bouncing and jiggling Harry around.

'Neiiiigh!' he hollered, making Harry flinch at the unexpected noise, and trying his best to mimic a horse. 'Neeeeiiiggghhhh!' 

Soon Harry was laughing hysterically and still finding the energy to whoop and yell, 'Giddy up!' enthusiastically.

Passer-by's and people relaxing in their gardens stared at the pair, the old man with his unusually long snowy white beard, looking fragile but displaying a great amount of agility and strength, and the thin little boy dressed in baggy clothes with messy ebony locks, both displaying a freeness of self that was enviable, as well as a refreshingly unaffected joy. 

Dumbledore finally came to a halt outside Arabella's house, rather hot in the face from his sudden exercise, yet rather glad to have been able to make Harry laugh and forget his troubles for a while, for it sadly struck Dumbledore that Harry was a rather serious child for his age. 

'Last stop gentlemen, last stop!' called Dumbledore, chuckling, and Harry was carefully let down, still laughing.

'This is Mrs Figg's home,' said Harry looking around. 'She's my babysitter. What are we doing here Mr Dumbledore?' he slipped his hand into Dumbledore's. Somewhere along the road Harry had decided Mr Dumbledore was someone he could place his trust in, and not worry about it being broken.

'Mrs Figg is a friend of mine Harry, this won't take a moment. Hopefully,' he added quietly.

'So! You came back! _With _Harry!' came a forceful voice from the now open doorway, Dumbledore inwardly winced, there was a definite note of 'I told you so' in the pointed tones.

'Yes Arabella, you were right. I have removed Harry from the Dursleys care,' replied Dumbledore evenly. 

The said lady just smirked, and then jerked her head to the side, 'Come in why don't you?' grappling with her crutch she led the way to her sitting room, full of crocheted monstrosities. 

'She always makes me look at photos of her cats,' whispered Harry aside to Dumbledore. 'Do we have to do that this time too?'

Dumbledore laughed out loud, and Harry hushed him urgently.

'No Harry, not this time.'

'Have you explained to him about the real world?' asked Mrs Figg, eliciting a bewildered look from Harry as he sat down beside Mr Dumbledore on the cat hair covered couch.

'No, not yet,' replied Dumbledore seriously.

'Well you better had, unless you were planning on showing him and _then_ explaining,' said Mrs Figg with some asperity in her voice.

'Of course not,' said Dumbledore sounding a tinge exasperated and then paused as if stuck.

'You weren't thinking of giving him over to more muggle guardians?' said Mrs Figg, sounding irritated, she glared at Dumbledore until he relented and answered her. 

'No, at least I'm not now,' admitted Dumbledore, finding Arabella's steady gaze unnerving and annoying for it. Harry looked alarmed at this new development,

'Mr Dumbledore, I want to stay with you. Please, may I? I won't be any bother, I can do chores.'

'Well then, that's sorted,' said Mrs Figg, over-riding whatever Dumbledore's open mouth had been about to say. 'The boy's chosen, Albus, and it's your duty to provide it.'

Albus shut his open mouth and glowered briefly at his ever so slightly ascetic friend, he scratched his beard and felt a small hand touch his still one nervously, then a small head rested against his side, and little Harry Potter murmured:

'Will you be my granddad?' with the kind of wistful hopefulness only Oliver Twist might have pulled off, and he was fictional. Dumbledore was stunned into insensibility for an instant and didn't reply.

'Harry, there are things you need to know first, about who I really am. You know I told you I come from Scotland?'

Harry nodded his head against Dumbledore's side.

'Well I am Headmaster of a school there. A school called Hogwarts. It's a school for special students Harry.'

'You mean one for people with die selex a?' asked Harry, confusing Dumbledore, who couldn't figure out what die selex a was.

'No, it's for magical students Harry,' said Mrs Figg in her usual straightforward manner.

Harry clapped his hands over his mouth and gasped behind them, eyes wide he stared at Dumbledore, who stood up, took out his wand and transfigured his suit back into his usual flamboyant robes.

The effect on Harry was electric, he leapt up from his seat and shouted something incoherently, before quickly realising what he had done (seeing Arabella Figg's pinched face), and collapsing huddled to the floor, his hands raised above his head and his body tensed.

It was obvious that he expected to be hit for his spontaneous outburst, Arabella Figg took one look and was suddenly striding to the door, crutches forgotten and a grim scowl of determination upon her face. It was only Dumbledore's quick thinking (and a petrificous charm), that stopped the Dursleys experiencing magic in a way that would make them truly paranoid about it for the rest of their lives, for all her gruff manner, Arabella Figg was a person with a large if somewhat lopsided heart.

'What did you do to her?' asked Harry, fearfully.

'I used a charm, Harry, to stop her from doing something stupid.'

'Did it hurt her?' Harry's concern for his old, no doubt boring babysitter touched Dumbledore, and made him warm some more to the boy, slowly his heart was melting and accepting Harry in to a soul that had wised up to the world and sadly found it lacking.

'No Harry, but she will be annoyed with me for taking her unawares.'

'Can you do lots of... magic,' Harry squeaked the last, looking around as if expecting Uncle Vernon to materialise from nowhere and tell him off.

'Yes, but you have to learn it, that's why we have a school,' explained Dumbledore.

'Will I be able to go?' asked Harry, suddenly looking interested.

'Oh yes, undoubtedly Harry, undoubtedly.'

'It's not freaky?'

'Do I look like a freak?' questioned Dumbledore, and got a seriously pondering look from Harry, who had never seen his type of clothing before, and thought the colours bright and wonderful, though the shoes were scary.

'You,' said Dumbledore, mock glaring at the small boy, 'are going to give me an inferiority complex!'

'A what?'

'Make me go insane,' said Dumbledore in his teachers voice, he looked over his half moon glasses at a cheekily grinning Harry Potter, whose confidence was growing every moment in the company of 'Mr Dumbledore', and smiled his twinkling eyes smile.

'You're a wizard Harry.'

Author's Note: Let's see, you may shoot me, but I had written this all out on my lap top but one night it got hungry and went for a snack, routing around it found a delicious looking morsel and glomped it all down with much relish. Sooo, here is the 'other' version of chapter four, (we shall never see the original again I fear), and I have made it extra long to make up for the delay.

Did I mention that I love you all? Well that would of course be an exaggeration but awww, I do anyway, lol. Your reviews have been splendiferous and I have enjoyed reading each and every one! Anyways, do continue to comment and tell me if you liked it, _why _you did, questions, and indubitably to tell me off for my appalling update history!

__

Please be aware that I'm not replying to reviews submitted to this chapter, but the previous one, so although you might have submitted another review for this Chapter (you dah-ling people), I'm replying to the one you submitted in chapter three! Phew!

Finally! Replies to reviews...

LilPup: I didn't want to make Dumbledore lose his rag with the Dursleys, at least not much, because he's meant to be so wise etc, I guess we can leave that to others.. hint hint. Thanks for the review.

DuxDuk: I don't intend on giving up this story, this has to be one of the easier ones to update, my other fics are suffering from writers block but this one seems to have escaped! Thanks for the review and I hope Petunia Dursley's reaction was satisfying!

wquad: Thank you, it is good to know you are enjoying this!

shdurrani: Thanks! I hope you liked this chapter!

LittleEar BigEar's sis: Thank you!

Crysal: You had me going for a moment! Glad you liked it!

Sky Chief: Glad you liked my Dudley, sorry for the long time between updates, I have a busy life!

kateydidnt: Dumbledore got him out of there! Mind you he couldn't really do anything else considering the situation! Again, sorry for the time it takes me to update.

LinZE: Yah, I'm a definite fan of Minerva as a mothering figure, behind the stern exterior etc, look out for this in future chapters!

Rachel A. Prongs: Yeah, I wanted Dumbledore to curse the Dursleys too but couldn't really do it ethically. Sorry for the wait.

Moonlight: This chapter was a little sad too, but Dumbledore did get around to freeing Harry. Thanks for reviewing and putting me on your faves! Yay! :-)

silverleaf: Hope this chapter also was worth the wait! I'm also in agreement that Dumbledore is partially responsible for the way in which Harry was brought up, as he was the one who, after all, placed Harry on the Dursleys doorstep, thus the inspiration for this fic.

Lady FoxFire: Dumbledore is constrained by being such a public figure, so that he cannot punish the Dursleys as he might wish, however that doesn't mean to say that others won't do so for him!

Aeryn Alexander: Wow, a review from one of my favourite authors! Thank you very much, I'm glad you found the last chapter 'excellent' and I hope this one meets with you approval also.

Lokia: See, Harry is 'outta there', hope you liked the method!

Christy: I continued, and I keep stopping them at interesting points to make it more interesting for you readers! Thanks for the review!

blackunicorn: Hope chapter four was okay, and I'm happy you like this fic!

hedwig7up: Thank you! Here's an update!

K. H. T: Thanks for your review!

some lesbian: Thanks for the review! Did you enjoy this chapter!

Robin: Wow, thanks for the wonderful review. I actually agree on your little nit-picking point about Harry saying 'mister' too much in chapter three, and, as soon as I've finished and posted this, I intend to go and correct it!

Illustrious Sorrow: thank you, I'm planning on making Harry's life much better, as a child's life should be.

Anneliese: Your reviews are always so enthusiastic! I love them! Here's 'more', hope you like it!

The Wolf of Were: Thanks, I hope you also thought this chapter was just as good!

Melanie: Thank you for reviewing my fic, did you read my others? I must go check my reviews! lol

Moonlight Snitch: Oh I know, my updates are terminally slow at times, however this fic is better than others of mine (scary huh?), glad you liked it, and thanks!

skipastarseeker: I know I should update more often! But encouragement does help so thank you for your review!

SithTahiri: Here's more, lol!

Aurelia: Thank you for the review, hope you liked what happened.

Winged wolf: Thank you, I work on making Harry as realistic as possible, despite it being an AU.

john: It wasn't 5 months since my last update was it? Oh man that is bad! Will definitely improve, promise!

JerseyGirl03: Is there going to be more? Absolutely! Here it is! ;)

Blume: _cringes_ so sorry about the lengthy wait for chapter three, hope this one didn't take so long (I can't remember). Thanks for the review!

serapotter: Thanks!

sakurakawaiicherry: Thank you for the review, Harry is kinda cute, and I wanted him to be cos I like the kid!

Butler: Yeah those Dursleys are mean people, thanks for reviewing.

lil_angel: That is high praise! I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Rhiain: Thank you, high praise again, and I'm not sure I deserve it, but I am glad you enjoyed it.

Danny's Girl: Hey, I updated!

Athenia McGonagall: Thank you, as you can see I have continued, and I hope you liked it.

Lions Blood: Thank you, this didn't take too long, right? 

Charma1219: Thanks! 

npetrenko: My last reviewer for Chapter Three, thank you!


	5. Sweet Dreams

****

Hand-Me-Down Clothes

Sweet Dreams

'I'm a what?' gaped Harry.

'You're a wizard, and so were your parents, Harry.'

'But, but, wizards can turn people into frogs and have staffs and ... look like you, I'm, I'm just Harry.'

'Not _just_ Harry, haven't you ever made anything happen, anything odd, such as... turning your teacher's hair blue...?' Dumbledore raised an eyebrow conspiratorially. 

'Uh,' said Harry, blushing.

'Hmmm, you see? Now there are schools for children like you, in fact there is a whole _world_ full of wizards and witches, just like you, and if you would like, you can come and live in that world, with me.'

'With you? A whole world of people who can do ...magic?' Harry whispered the last, the word had been forbidden in the Dursley household.

'Yes, a whole world, and we would love to have you Harry.'

'Really?' said Harry, eyes aglow at this novel idea of actually being wanted, Dumbledore felt his heart lurch with unexpected emotion.

'Yes, yes,' said Mrs Figg, limping in through the sitting room doorway, which a tabby cat (possibly the one called Flopsy, thought Harry), was using as a scratch post. 'But if you two don't mind, I need to get on with my tea, and you two are in the way, so bugger off to Hogwarts and give Minerva the fright of her life why don't you?'

'Your hospitality, is, as always, unmatched, Arabella,' wryly commented Dumbledore. 'Come Harry, we must away, to your new home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

'You mean I can stay with you?'

'Yes. I'm not sure how we'll manage it, but yes.'

'Really?' 

'Yes Harry, you have my word, and I do not go back on my word, not ever, okay?' 

'Not ever ever ever ever?'

'Not ever, Harry, trust me,' reassured Dumbledore, patiently. He took Harry's hand, and motioned towards the fire. 'We'll travel by floo, Arabella, if we may use some of your floo powder?'

'Yes, yes, it's on the mantelpiece in the urn. No, not that one, that's Grandmother, the floo powder's in the maroon one.' 

'I don't want the flu,' said Harry.

'It's not flu Harry, it's a type of travelling - by fire - it won't hurt you,' replied a slightly disturbed Dumbledore, removing a generous handful of floo powder from the maroon urn.

'Thank you Mrs Figg,' said Harry, venturing a shy smile, and holding tightly onto Dumbledore's hand. 

'Hurrumph,' said that esteemed lady in response. 'Wait a sec Albus, give this to Minerva, I know how she likes it.' 

Albus, smiled and took the proffered gift, glancing at it, he was more than surprised to find himself holding tinned salmon.

'I'm not entirely sure she'll appreciate it Arabella,' he said, trying to stifle incredulous laughter.

'She always liked it before!' said Arabella firmly, in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

Dumbledore gave up, at his wordless command a huge tongue of flame shot up the chimney, making poor Harry jump with fright, and with a quick flick of his wrist the floo powder was in and the fire burned vivid green.

He picked up Harry, deeming it safer, and stepped into the startling coolness, 'Dumbledore's Office!' he cried and felt Harry tense against him and then they were off!

Grates sped by, faster than the eye could make out, quick glimpses came of rooms in varying states of decay and splendour, some barred by protective wards, attuned to certain persons only, and some were open to all, like the Leaky Cauldron. Then they were stumbling out of Dumbledore's fireplace, sooty and disorientated, and both relieved that the tumultuous journey was over.

Harry was first to recover and found his attention immediately diverted by the sight of a beautiful bird in brilliant red and gold foliage, who swished it's wings and flew around the boy, singing in bell like tones full of liquid warmth.

'Yes yes Fawkes,' said Albus, irritated. 'There's no need to rub it in!'

Fawkes the Phoenix came to land upon his master's shoulder, cooing softly and in a conciliatory manner. 

'This is Fawkes,' said Dumbledore to Harry, 'and Fawkes, this is Harry, who has come to live with us.'

'Forks?' queried Harry, looking a little puzzled.

'No Fawkes, F-A-W-K-E-S,' said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry's slip. 'He's a Phoenix, a very rare bird, very beautiful, and very vain too,' he confided in Harry, and the bird puffed out his chest in indignation as Harry giggled.

'Can I pet him?' asked Harry, eyes wide at this glorious bird, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

'I think he would like that Harry,' said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, he knelt, so Harry could easily reach forward and cautiously stroke the phoenix's soft head. The birds large eyes were friendly and benign, and as Harry petted him he began to sing a note in what could only be called a purr, much to Dumbledore's amusement. 

Albus Dumbledore persuaded Fawkes (it wasn't too difficult), to perch next to Harry, as the boy sat dwarfed in Dumbledore's seat behind his famed oval desk, absolutely covered in paper work he noted dismally. Whilst he himself asked a house elf to find Minerva and request her presence on his behalf, it took only a few minutes for her to appear, her animagus form was a great help to her speed in getting around such a rambling castle as Hogwarts was.

'Well, Albus?' she impatiently asked as soon as she flung open his door and entered.

'Very, thank you, my dear transfiguration professor.'

'Albus... I could really... how was he, how was Harry?' Minerva demanded her teeth grating in frustration.

Behind Albus Dumbledore, Fawkes warbled a note in greeting as Harry curiously peeked from behind Dumbledore's flamboyant robes to see a slightly flustered lady with her hair done up in a tight bun, a pointy hat with a feather and the same kind of robes as Mr Dumbledore wore, only smaller. 

'Harry-' Dumbledore began to say, when Minerva McGonagall shrieked, clutched her chest and pointed vaguely behind him.

__

'Harry Potter!' she exclaimed, looking as though she might faint.

'Yes,' succinctly replied Dumbledore, secretly enjoying seeing the normally on-top-of-things professor, shocked, he popped a lemon drop in his mouth. 'Lemon drop?' he offered blandly.

'Albus, please, explain,' said McGonagall, recovering herself a little.

'I have removed him from the Dursleys care, for their lack of.'

'Lack of what?'

'Care.'

There was a silence.

It wasn't broken.

After a while Harry felt repressed by the sheer weight of the silence that reigned in the room, even Fawkes was silent, Harry decided to be brave, nervously he slipped from his seat and ducked under the desk, coming up the other side, beside Dumbledore.

'Hello,' he said to the tall lady with (currently), very thin lips, she looked startled, and glanced down at him in such surprise that Harry began to fear he had done something wrong. 'I'm Harry,' he ventured awkwardly, unconsciously edging closer to the comforting bulk of Mr Dumbledore.

Then something wonderful happened, the lady changed from being all tense and uptight, she smiled, and her lips weren't thin anymore, and her eyes were warm and loving as she bent down to him. 

'Hello Harry, I'm Minerva McGonagall,' she said, her voice soft and friendly.

'Hi,' said Harry, regaining some confidence in the face of this lovely woman who liked him, didn't seem to mind his shaggy hair or baggy, old and dirty clothes, as all his other teachers had. 'Are you a friend of Mr Dumbledore's?'

'Yes she is, Harry,' said Dumbledore, interrupting. 'Minerva. I have promised Harry that he will be living with us from now on.'

Minerva McGonagall glanced up at him, this was a surprise, Dumbledore had been very insistent that Harry stay with the Dursleys, so that he wouldn't suffer from all the attention he would have received in the magical world, as the Boy-Who-Lived. For him to change his mind now meant that the situation at the Dursleys must have been far worse than he expected, and Harry, Harry! He looked so vulnerable and so very small for his age, and so much like James, but with Lily's eyes and smile, Minerva snapped back to the present.

'If you don't mind, Mrs McGonagall?' said Harry.

'No, of course not! You're very welcome here Harry, it is lovely to have you with us,' Minerva smiled, and tried to recover from the use of a married title, she'd been known as Professor for so long now.

Harry yawned, staggering a little as he did so, it wasn't that late in the evening, only 6pm, but it had been a busy day, many unusual things had happened, and he had a lot of new ideas to take in, not least a move into an entirely new world.

Albus Dumbledore gave Minerva a gentlemanly hand up and then scooped up Harry into his arms, 'Bed for you, little one,' he said.

'Do I ha-ave to?' yawned Harry again, protesting weakly, the two grown ups shared a grin over his tousled head.

Shortly Harry was ensconced in a bed at the bottom of Dumbledore's, dressed (with the help of a spell) in a pair of Dumbledore's shrunken pyjama's, an unfortunately teddy bear covered pair. 

'Good night Harry,' said Albus Dumbledore, pulling up the quilt over the boy's shoulders, Minerva McGonagall was folding Harry's clothes, with a frown at the state of them.

'G'night Mr Dumbledore,' said Harry sleepily, 'G'night Mrs McGonagall.'

'Good Night Harry, sleep tight,' replied McGonagall quietly, foregoing comment at being called a 'Mrs'.

Dumbledore bent and kissed the child gently on the forehead: Harry's only response was a happy and drowsy smile. 

So it was that Harry received his first bed time kiss since his mother and father's death on that fateful night- October the 31st.

Author's Notes: Yay! See I can update quicker than six months! Actually I need to apologise for the quality of this chapter, it starts off fine and then deteriorates towards the end. This is because I just wrote it, literally, and therefore it is no doubt full of errors and I'm sorry about that, but hey, you wanna be my beta?

Does anyone fancy doing me a little timeline? I need to know what years Bill and Charlie would have been in at Hogwarts, because, obviously they'll be there now, I think Percy was just starting.... (aaah my head!).

Ooh, yes got my first OOC accusation from 'VenusDeOmnipotent', but it was mild and she/he was after all correct, Harry is OOC, he's only seven though, and my excuse for any future OOC is that if his past has been changed then so will his character (slightly). Plus McGonagall and Dumbledore may seem OOC but that's because we're seeing a side of them we never see in the books. 

Thank you **Relle,** **Anneliese, von, Robin, Avlyn **(lol, I haven't finished this one yet, I'll worry about sequels later!). **silverleaf, SilverAngel, Leonie, Aeryn Alexander, aww heck, ALL OF YOU! **Now must put this up and sleep, it's 1am in England right now (how's that for dedication?). 


	6. Mrs McGonagall, Aunt, Ma or Grandma?

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Hand-Me-Down Clothes

Mrs McGonagall, Aunt, Mummy or Grandma?

The next morning Harry Potter awoke at the sprightly hour of 6:15am. Heavy scarlet drapes covered the huge floor length windows but a crack showed the steel grey of early morning light. Harry cautiously sat up in his makeshift bed and looked around, last night he had been too sleepy to really take in his surroundings, but now he was awake and curious.

His bed, he immediately noticed was situated at the foot of an absolutely humongous four poster bed, which could easily sleep seven people to Harry's eye, (it was more like four), and in it was the familiar mound of a person, covered by an intricately detailed and rather heavy looking eiderdown. Deep red curtains hung from the elevated polished posts, tied back by thick sashes, and the posts themselves were heavy polished oak, thicker than the span of Harry's hand. Looking across the room, opposite, Harry saw, hung above a cherry wood dresser, an enormous tapestry that reached to the ceiling (domed high above) picturing a lion, a serpent, a badger and a raven in regal poses. 

Harry found the opulence almost overwhelming and was even more impressed by the size of the bedroom, it was oval with many big (sometimes barred) doors leading off, the floor was covered with many rugs in varying states (from threadbare to soft and lush looking) and the furniture, though placed a little haphazardly was magnificent and mostly far taller than little Harry. It was a room fit for a King and Harry thought it was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen!

Rubbing his eyes, Harry glanced again over at the sleeping figure in the oversized bed, quietly he slipped from his own cot and softly padded around the ledge of the bed (as high as shoulder almost) to see if it was Mr Dumbledore.

To his silent yet intense relief it was. Mr Dumbledore lay on his side, his silver beard tucked beneath him, startling blue eyes closed peacefully and his hands loosely holding the bed linen up around him. Every so often he would let out a soft snore with a particularly heavy breath and his moustache would quiver, in a rather comical manner. Harry couldn't help but giggle, instantly Mr Dumbledore's eyes snapped open and Harry jumped in surprise. 

'Harry?' said Mr Dumbledore, whose voice didn't sound nearly so awake as his face looked.

'Yes sir?' squeaked Harry, nervous that he would be told off for waking the man up.

'Ah,' Dumbledore twisted his head to look at the clock on the cabinet beside his bed, he couldn't help a slight grimace at the time. 'What are you doing up so early?'

'I woke up sir,' said Harry with an astonishing grasp of the obvious. Dumbledore found it in him to chuckle gruffly.

'Aren't you tired?' he asked. 

'Not really,' said Harry, shivering, his pyjama's didn't insulate him from the early morning chilly air. Dumbledore, upon seeing this, shifted back from the edge of his bed and turned back the covers, wincing as he pulled on his beard.

'Get in Harry, you'll catch a chill, and that wouldn't be an auspicious start to your time here.'

Harry stared at Dumbledore with an uncomprehending look upon his pale little face.

'Get in, child,' repeated Dumbledore gently giving the boy a little smile.

Harry twisted his hands together for a moment longer, he could remember times when he'd had nightmares and had crept up to his Uncle and Aunt's bedroom and asked to sleep with them, and had been cruelly refused. Had, alone in his cupboard tried with all his tiny might to stay awake, gnawing his finger nails and clutching his pillow in fear of the dream returning and knowing that had it been Dudley with the nightmare he would now be safely ensconced with his parents, being comforted by a loving mother. 

Harry had often wondered if there was something wrong with him, something that made him unlovable.

Some of his thoughts showed on his face and in his body language, and Dumbledore was a very apt reader of such things, he was about to make a move to physically pick the boy up when Harry abandoned his thoughts and scrambled up onto the bed.

Nervously Harry wriggled beneath the covers, terrified he would be told to explain his actions and sent back to the Dursleys, he lay rigid staring at the elaborate gold thread on the bed covers.

'Harry?' asked Dumbledore confused by the boy's sudden stiff behaviour, and he could be forgiven for having some dark thoughts about the Dursleys right then. Slowly he reached out and rested a hand upon the boy's skinny shoulder. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Yes sir,' replied Harry still studying the sheets.

'What happened to calling me 'Mr Dumbledore'?' asked Dumbledore. 'I rather liked it.'

'Um,' said Harry.

'Do you want to tell me what's on your mind Harry,' said Dumbledore in the tone of voice that said you will rather than you might. It worked on Harry who blurted his thoughts out in a highly confusing manner in about ten seconds with hardly any pauses. 

Somehow Dumbledore understood Harry, and was quick to answer some underlying beliefs, whilst being secretly very relieved that his dark thoughts had not been realised.

'Harry your parents loved you very much.' There was no reply, Harry's parents were dead and Harry had never even seen a picture of them, he couldn't remember them either. 'You're a very lovable boy, I'm quite sure that you'll find lots of family to adopt you here at Hogwarts.

'You're not ever going back to Dursleys, Harry, whatever you do wrong in the future I will _not_ punish you by sending you back to the Dursleys, and neither will I punish you for coming to me at night if you have a bad dream.'

'Really?' asked Harry, remembering the times Dudley had spent nights cuddled up to his mummy and daddy, and he had been left always alone in his little cupboard.

'Really,' said Dumbledore, smiling, he stifled a yawn and then looked down to see Harry's emerald green eyes fixed on him in watery adoration. 'Do you suppose I could get a little more sleep now, Harry? I'm an old man and I need my rest!'

Harry ventured a shy smile and was relieved to see it returned with twice the strength and twinkle.

'Yes, Mr Dumbledore,' Harry said, and as the old man closed his eyes and heaved a breath, Harry warily snuggled up to his protector and rested his head by his shoulder. Without opening his eyes Dumbledore wrapped one of his arms securely around the boy and hugged him close, but despite the appearance of sleep his thoughts were troubled and full of a boy who believed himself unworthy of love.

Later that same morning, around eight am, Dumbledore roused from a light doze (all he'd been able to achieve) to find Harry sound asleep with his head resting lightly against him, the small boy made a lovely picture, with his long dark lashes, slightly flushed cheeks and messy black locks.

As carefully as he could Dumbledore set about trying to disentangle the boy without waking him and managed to set the boy back against the white cotton pillows (monogrammed with the Hogwarts crest) still sleeping tranquilly. Unfortunately as he eased himself up from the bed the mattress squeaked and Harry stirred and opened his bleary eyes to see Mr Dumbledore sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in his purple pyjama's (don't ask). 

'Is it time to get up, Mr Dumbledore?' he asked sleepily.

'You don't have to if you don't want to Harry, it's still fairly early,' replied Dumbledore.

'Can I please?' asked Harry, seeking permission to get up.

'Yes Harry, of course.'

Dumbledore waited for Harry to extricate himself from the bed covers before wrapping him in a dressing gown that was many, many sizes too big, and gesturing the child to follow. Dumbledore led Harry through one of the large doors, which despite it's apparent mass swung easily open before him, inside was the bathroom, and what a bathroom! The bath tub was a swimming pool to young Harry, and the soaring walls never-ending, the extensive tiling was impressively decorated with a woodland scene where the trees actually swayed in a breeze and a unicorn briefly flashed his horn before galloping off. 

Harry was delighted, the dressing gown he was wearing fell in folds around his feet and stopped him from exploring but he was fairly content just to stare and stare. 

'Do you like it?' asked Dumbledore, eagerly. 'I had it done for myself, the old Headmaster had a Hawaiian beach,' Dumbledore made an expression of distaste, 'not really my scene. So I changed it to this. Every so often you do unfortunately get an actual person wonder across, which can be embarrassing, but not very often.'

Harry stared at Dumbledore, 'People walk across it?'

'Yes. Once I was in the bath and a muggle couple walking their dogs came past, terribly difficult to explain,' said Dumbledore, frowning at the memory.

Harry just stared, sometimes Mr Dumbledore was very strange.

'Come,' said Dumbledore briskly. 'We must wash that sleepy looking face of yours and give your teeth a brush, we don't want them to fall out!'

With which startling statement he bustled Harry along to surprisingly normal looking sink, lifted him onto a box that had suddenly appeared and administered a flannel, before bustling back to his room to change. The only unusual thing, thought Harry as he spat out his toothpaste a little later, was the fact that the sink swallowed excess water and toothpaste with a friendly glug gulp, and the mirror told him to brush his hair.

Exiting the bath room he was met with a dressed Albus Dumbledore, whose robes were just as excessive as the other day only this time they were dark green with a silver edging. 

'Finished with the bathroom, Harry?' asked Mr Dumbledore.

'Yes, thank you.'

'Here are your clothes, I've shrunk the shirt a little, but I'm afraid it's the best I could do for now. We'll have to go shopping soon.'

Harry was left alone again as he changed back into the Dursley clothes (as he was silently christening them) and found that the shirt didn't bag down to his knees and the trousers suddenly fit around the waist. It was a novel experience for Harry and he spent some time expanding and letting loose the new elastic on the Dursley's hand-me-down trousers.

A soft swish of wings announced the arrival of Fawkes, who was very pleased to see Harry and showed it by coming to a stop in midair in front of him and butting his head forward to be petted. 

When Albus Dumbledore came out from the bathroom, it was to find Harry in midair, held secure by Fawkes and swooping around the room making whooshing noises, for a moment he thought his heart stopped.

'Fawkes! Bring Harry down now!' Dumbledore called, trying not to let his voice croak.

Fawkes obliged, dropping the boy right in front of Dumbledore so that he had to catch him, Harry was giggling so hard that Dumbledore couldn't find it in him to scold and instead said,

'Lets go down to breakfast Harry.'

Luckily it was not yet term time, it was the latter end of August, and the professors had all returned a week or so early to prepare for the new year that was starting on September the first, but no students were actually present yet.

Harry was enchanted by the Great Hall, his awe was visible as he gazed around with wide eyes, as if trying to see as much as he could all at once, eagerly pointing out the floating candles to Mr Dumbledore and the long polished house tables. When Dumbledore showed Harry his own seat the response was suitably satisfying as the seven year old boy ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the gold encrusted ornamentations and it's scarlet satin padding. Finally hunger over came enthusiasm and curiosity and Harry was sat (with the help of a large cushion (thank you professor Flitwick) on a chair beside Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall.

'Good Morning Harry,' said Mrs McGonagall in her concise manner. 'Albus.'

'Good Morning Minerva,' beamed Albus, in good humour. 'Harry, would like milk or orange juice?'

'Orange juice please Mr Dumbledore. Hello Mrs McGonagall,' said Harry, taking Albus' cue and smiling at the lady he had met the night before. 'How are you?'

'I'm very well thank you,' responded Minerva McGonagall, unable to stop her lips from twitching.

'Harry and I need to go shopping later, to buy him some new clothes,' began Albus, broaching the subject to Minerva. 'I wondered if you wouldn't mind coming with us, seeing as I've little of no experience of buying children's clothes.'

'Well, neither have I Albus, or did you suddenly forget that I have no children?' said Minerva, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

'Two head's are better than none,' replied Albus.

'Two head's are better that _one_, Albus,' corrected Minerva.

'I thought you were always saying that my head's full of nothing but candy floss and sugared sweets?' 

Minerva McGonagall mentally began to count down the days till the next summer holiday where she could once again escape. 

'Do come Mrs McGonagall,' said Harry, reaching up to tug her sleeve. 'Mr Dumbledore said they do honey and toast ice cream there.'

Minerva pursed her lips and glanced at Albus Dumbledore, he made a baby face at her and she glared fiercely before giving in and laughing.

'I'd love to come Harry, and I think we'll buy some new glasses for you while we're at it,' said McGonagall, peering through her own at his battered ones. 

'I don't have any money,' suddenly realised Harry, looking distraught.

'That's okay Harry, we do,' said Albus seriously, in a confident manner, the edges of his mouth creasing.

'You shouldn't have to spend it on me,' protested Harry looking genuinely distressed.

'I am now your legal guardian Harry,' said Dumbledore, glossing over the fact that he hadn't actually officially told any one he had taken the boy, though Arabella would undoubtedly be giving an informative report to the Ministry. 'It is my job to look after you, and besides,' Dumbledore leant down and whispered in Harry's ear. 'I'm rich.'

'Really?' asked Harry, who seemed to ask that a lot.

'Really,' confirmed Albus, recognising a little ritual here. Minerva was looking disapproving so he shrugged helplessly at her indicating he had had little choice.

'Aren't you going eat anything?' asked Minerva, looking in concern at Harry's empty plate and bowl.

'I was waiting for everyone to finish,' said Harry, looking up at her with those large innocent eyes that spoke only truth. Minerva McGonagall glanced over at Albus with a forbidding look on her face, chewing the inside of her cheek in an effort to keep from being rude about the Dursleys.

'You can start to eat whenever you want here, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Would you like toast or cereal?'

'Cereal please,' said Harry quietly, looking small and lost sat next to Albus' big ornate chair.

'Which sort?' asked Albus, waving forward 6 packets of brightly coloured wizarding cereal, Harry gaped at them, he'd never heard of the like before. There were Cauldron Crunches (a favourite of Severus Snape's much to everyone's secret amusement), Wonderful Wheat Wands, Transfiguring Tortoises (first a tea pot and then a tortoise), Dizzy Dollies (brightly coloured figures shaped a _little _like a doll, would stagger around your bowl as if inebriated), and all of it made from ingredients that actually were edible.

'It was Albus' turn to pick the cereals this week,' explained Minerva McGonagall to a slightly over-whelmed Harry. 'He always picks the most bizarre.'

'Headmaster,' suddenly sounded a distasteful voice. 'Why is Harry Potter _here?_'

'Good Morning Severus,' said Dumbledore expansively. 'I'm Harry's new guardian.'

'Oh no,' said a voice that sounded like it had just received the worst news it could ever have dreaded hearing. 'Please tell me you're joking. What was wrong with his previous guardians, he's been there for the last six years!'

'Ah well,' said Albus, feeling another spasm of guilt at this reminder. 'They were inappropriate, and thus he is now staying with me.'

All the professors at the staff table were indiscriminately listening in to hear answers to questions they were simply _dying _to ask.

'Inappropriate? Who cares, why bring him _here_?' practically snarled the voice.

'I'm his guardian, after his kin,' explained Dumbledore unaffected by the intensity of the voice. Harry took up the Transfiguring Tortoises and carefully poured some in his bowl, he watched them pop randomly into different shapes and looked worried.

'What is it Harry?' asked McGonagall, watching him watching the cereal.

'Will it still pop in my tummy, Mrs McGonagall?' asked Harry, looking concerned.

'No Harry,' replied Mrs McGonagall, stifling a laugh. 'It's only a charm, a magical spell that wears off once it gets to your tummy.' She poured him some milk and Harry set to work with some enjoyment.

'Mrs McGonagall?' said the snide voice. 'Since when was _Professor_ McGonagall married! What an unlikely vision, the prudish head of Gryffindor walking up the aisle-'

'That will do Severus,' ordered Dumbledore firmly, Snape had crossed the line into insulting. The other staff members studied their breakfast foods, when Dumbledore spoke like that they all felt as though they were nought but school children again.

'I just-' began the sulky voice.

'That will do,' repeated Dumbledore, not even raising his voice, he was concerned for his age old friend Minerva McGonagall who looked rather upset or angry. 

'Are you married Mrs McGonagall?' asked Harry, innocently coming to the defence of one of his two new friends.

'I was once,' said Mrs McGonagall, very quietly, but everyone heard anyway, straining as they were to hear.

'What happened?' asked Harry reaching for Mrs McGonagall's hand as a shadow crossed her face.

'He died,' she said shortly, allowing Harry to slip his hand into hers. 'A long time ago.'

The silence at the table was absolute, only Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey had known that Minerva McGonagall had once been married and was now a widow.

Harry was a sensitive little boy, perhaps because his upbringing had lacked any love he sought it where he could find it and understood expressions of sadness or sorrow, having known them himself. Slipping, half falling, from his seat Harry, in an uncharacteristic display of affection (he had never had anyone to show it to before), scrambled up onto Minerva McGonagall's lap and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She buried her face in his messy hair and hugged him tightly back, both receiving comfort from the embrace.

'My Mummy and Daddy died,' said Harry after a little while. 'I don't remember them very much at all, but I miss them. I expect you miss Mr McGonagall too.'

'Yes,' said Minerva indistinctly. 

'We could be each other's family, because we haven't got a real one anymore,' said Harry shyly.

'What do you mean?' asked Minerva McGonagall faintly, sitting back a little to make them both more comfortable.

'I don't really know,' admitted Harry, who now looked contrite. 'I'm sorry.'

'No, that's okay Harry, I would love to be a part of your family,' Minerva smiled at Harry as the little boy gave her a wide smile, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek tenderly.

'Oh!' exclaimed Harry loudly. 'We forgot Mr Dumbledore!'

'Forgot what?' asked Albus, who had jumped at Harry's exclamation.

'Mrs Figg's present to Aunt Minerva,' reminded Harry, bouncing on Aunt Minerva's lap as she had just been christened.

'Aunt Minerva?' wondered that lady vaguely.

'Oh yes,' murmured Albus, searching his robe pockets with a piece of toast still in his mouth.

'Grandma?' asked Harry, carefully watching Minerva's face. 'Mum?'

'Harry!' protested Minerva, laughing helplessly.

'Sorry,' said the repentant boy, relieved to hear her laugh.

'Just so,' Minerva approved, reaching across and removing Albus' piece of toast from his mouth, his eyes laughed at her, sparkling brightly.

'Ah here it is,' said Albus drawing the 'present' out from an endless pocket.

'You had different robes on yesterday,' pointed out Harry, wondering how the present had moved from one set to this set.

'Magic!' said Dumbledore winking at Harry. 'Here you go my dear, apparently your favourite. Don't kill the messenger,' Albus winced in expectation of an explosion as he handed it over to Minerva.

'Oh I love these!' cried Minerva. 'You can only get the good ones in Muggle supermarkets though, strange no? I think the magic does something to the flavour.'

Albus unbent from his cringing position and stared incredulously at his deputy.

'You like fish,' he said.

'Mmm -hmm,' agreed Minerva, showing the tin to Harry. 'Always best with a saucer of full fat milk.'

Dumbledore stared, in fact so did everyone who was left at the breakfast table.

Glancing up Minerva burst out laughing at his facial expression. 'I _love _it when I get one over you,' she crowed, chortling.

She didn't stop laughing for ages. 

Author's note: I suddenly realised that Harry Potter five was coming out this Saturday (well of course I already knew that, as it has been dominating my thoughts for a few weeks cough_obsession_cough), and remembered that I had this to post. I realise that after the book comes out no one will want to read fan fiction (I mean who seriously _would!) _so I'm posting it now, more than a little rough at the edges with no polish, but it is very long (this is because it has not undergone the editing process yet). Forgive me for the lack of shine, the bits that should have been edited out (this is 3661 words long (roughly) compared to the usual 2,000 at the most!), and I hope you enjoy it.

I would do review thanks but I haven't got the time, you'll have to wait for me to write ickle bitty notes telling you all how much I love you. LoL

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Thank You ALL for your **lovely, amazing, supportive and friendly Reviews!**


	7. Shopping With Large Hankies

Hand-Me-Down Clothes: Chapter Seven

**Shopping, a Handkerchief and a Family**

Later that same day it came upon Albus Dumbledore the idea to go shopping immediately and rid Harry of all those particularly nasty remnants of the Dursleys which might serve as an unpleasant memory to the boy. So it was that as the clock struck twelve o'clock in its deep resounding bass, Dumbledore, Harry and McGonagall made use of the floo network and arrived noisily in the Leaky Cauldron.

The shopping expedition had sparked much discussion, with the result that Harry and his adult companions were to brave the muggle world, instead of the magical, to postpone the inevitable questions and possible dangers that came with his Boy-Who-Lived status.

Hence the reason Harry was wearing one of Professor Flitwick's cloaks with the hood drawn up and why, beneath their outer cloaks, Dumbledore and McGonagall wore muggle clothes, with some discomfit it is to be noted. For extra precautions, Dumbledore had turned his silver white beard a dirty grey, wore owlish glasses and adopted a bumbling, nervous attitude, had cast the _Disillusionment _charm on Harry and convinced his colleague to grow warts.

It was with much relief, when they exited the Leaky Cauldron (without being recognised as the normally stately and respectable people they were) that Minerva McGonagall rid herself of warts and grotty cloak and stood, respectable again, in plain brown skirt, muggle blouse and jacket. Albus Dumbledore, somewhat less enthusiastic to cease playacting continued to amuse Harry by pretending to be unable to see more than a few feet ahead and asking the 'young master' if he knew where the nearest library was to be found.

After the Disillusionment charm had been lifted from Harry, and he and Mr Dumbledore had also discarded themselves of disguise and wizard cloaks (discreetly shrunk and placed in one of Dumbledore's endless pockets). Dumbledore, dressed in the suit Mrs Figg had conjured for him, only now a deep purple with matching heeled boots and silver buckles, took Harry's hand and with McGonagall holding Harry's other, set off in search of children's clothing.

It was to be an eventful day.

* * *

The first shop they went into was Boots, looking big and friendly as it did, however it didn't sell clothes, and by the time Mr Dumbledore had gone up and down the escalators thirteen times, both Harry and Minerva McGonagall were sick of the place and dragged him from it forcibly.

Mothercare, Harry insisted was for babies only, and then they spent half an hour in a fancy dress shop which had caught Mr Dumbledore's fancy, trying on moustaches, false noses, a witches hat from which hung straggly green hair (particularly funny on Mrs McGonagall) and alien masks.

Success came in Woolworths, a shop they popped into for the absolutely amazing array of sweets that were on show in tiered boxes, where they spotted some socks. They bought Harry some multicoloured stripy ones, a superman pair and several hardwearing sporty ones. Dumbledore bought some that said, 'I'm as cheesy as my feet' and, 'sock fetish' whilst Mrs McGonagall consented to some that declared she was a 'Cute Kitty ', which made Dumbledore laugh delightedly.

Next they discovered Marks and Spencers, though Mrs McGonagall, expecting the doors to open automatically like they had in Woolworths caused a stir when she walked straight into them.

'Are you all right, Mrs McGonagall?' asked Harry, worriedly taking her arm and guiding her through the actual automatic door.

'I'm fine, Harry,' assured Minerva, glaring at Albus Dumbledore whose lips were twitching suspiciously.

They found the children's department without further incident, and clutching their stripy bags of muggle sweets and bag of socks, began to browse, with no real idea of where to begin. The shop itself was fairly full, but not crowded, which was good as both of the adults made constant references to the magical world as well as pointing out perfectly ordinary things like security tags.

'How on earth do they expect you to know what will fit you?' asked Mrs McGonagall irritably. 'There's no measuring being done!'

'The sizes are on the tags,' said Harry, showing her the label "Age 6-7", on a pair of trousers.

'Magic is by far easier!' muttered that lady, examining the label suspiciously.

'What about this, Harry?' called Dumbledore, lifting a shirt with ruffles from its post.

'Um,' said Harry, hating it but not sure how to say so without being insulting, should he try and like everything they liked?

'Albus, it's hideous, for Merlin's sake, Harry's not wearing anything like that! Have you no taste?' said Mrs McGonagall, askance. Then she glanced his clothes over and said out of the side of her mouth to Harry, 'Silly question.' Harry giggled and then quickly covered his mouth, blushing as Mr Dumbledore pouted and returned the shirt on its hanger back to the post.

'Where do we start?' asked Dumbledore of them both, rejoining them.

'Underwear,' said McGonagall practically, she glanced around. 'There,' she pointed out a rail of pants, socks and vests for little boys, and started across leaving both the males to follow.

Harry was a little embarrassed at having to buy underwear, and kept carefully behind Mr Dumbledore hoping that he wouldn't have to try them on or anything. Mrs McGonagall had picked up a pair of white pants and a pair of small cotton boxer shorts, and was regarding them looking little confused, seeing Mr Dumbledore, she thrust them at him, and said acerbically:

'Here, this is more your department.'

'Hmm,' said Dumbledore, tugging his long white beard, which had already drawn many glances today, he bounced down to sit upon his heels in front of Harry.

'Boxers or briefs, Harry?' he asked, holding forth a pair of each.

'Um,' said Harry, all of a sudden feeling very shy.

'Which do you normally wear?' said Dumbledore, smiling so kindly that Harry felt much less embarrassed and pointed out the briefs.

'Right,' said Mr Dumbledore, in a businesslike manner, winking at Harry. 'Age 7'.

Together they found ten pairs of pants that would fit Harry (age 6-7, as 7-8 looked far to big when they held them against the child), in several different colours and patterns, leaving both child and man supremely satisfied with their efforts. Mrs McGonagall, who had been wandering the rows of hangers came back and reminded them about vests and so they picked several vests out too, and then some more socks, because Harry said he liked the pair with Dennis the Menace on and Dumbledore insisted he have them.

Next they migrated towards the pyjamas and picked out for Harry a pair of green bottoms with a top that had a royal blue chest and green sleeves, a red pair that had a huge lion roaring on the front with its mane actually fluffy to the touch, and a black pair that had a florescent skeleton stuck on the front which would glow in the dark.

Feeling much more confident the three of them moved onto shirts and tee shirts, of which there was a huge variety that momentarily overwhelmed them, luckily a sales assistant approached with a smile, to offer her help.

'Good Afternoon, may I help you?' she said, smiling at Harry, who promptly hid behind Mr Dumbledore.

'Any help would be most welcome,' said Dumbledore, smiling at the woman, whose name badge read 'Sue'.

'What were you looking for?' she asked politely.

'Everything,' responded Minerva dryly, 'but at this moment tops, shirts.'

'Well, although summer is just ending it's still quite warm, so might I suggest some tee shirts and then some warmer, long sleeved shirts for later on in the autumn,' said the sales lady, who had quite obviously done this many a time before.

'Tee shirts,' said Dumbledore slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure what they were.

'They're these,' said Harry, grinning, tugging the corner of a white one with the motif 'surfing dude'.

'Is it Granddad's first shopping trip?' asked the sales lady, winking at Harry, knowingly.

'No,' said McGonagall briskly. 'We're the boy's new guardians.'

Harry's face fell, the Dursleys had made a point of calling him, 'the Boy', and he had secretly been hoping that his dream of a family of sorts would come true, and that Mr Dumbledore _would_ be his Grandfather.

'Are _we_?' said Dumbledore, regarding his deputy with an quizzical expression, Mrs McGonagall avoided his gaze and tugged on the edge of her coat. The sales lady looked surprised and then sad, casting Harry a pitying look and looking sympathetic as she murmured her condolences.

Poor Harry didn't have a clue what was going on, but felt a little guilty about making the sales lady sad, Mrs McGonagall snapped at Dumbledore.

'Yes, of course,' without specifying what she was confirming, or agreeing with.

'We are the only family Harry has left,' said Dumbledore aside to the sales lady, though it seemed somehow as if he was talking pointedly to McGonagall.

'The Dursleys were my guardians too,' said Harry, quietly and it was made crystal clear to Minerva McGonagall that to Harry, guardians were something bad, associated with unhappiness, unworthiness, quickly bending she took Harry's hand and said:

'Then we shall be your family, and you shall be ours,' she smiled, that gentle, almost shy smile, as if she didn't do it very often, that softened the hard, taut angles of her features and made her face warm and loving.

'I've always wanted a Grandson,' said Mr Dumbledore, reaching down to clasp a hand comfortingly upon Harry's shoulder.

Harry took a great deep breath and felt that he was breathing in the happiness, it was pouring golden down his throat, threading it's way right to his little toes, like drinking hot chocolate on a winters evening, which he had once been able to do at Mrs Figg's. Feeling like he might cry with joy and at the same time terrified he might loose this new found feeling of belonging, and of being wanted, Harry flung his arms around Mrs McGonagall's neck and tried not to cry.

The sales lady began to sob, and Dumbledore gave her his handkerchief which she used to vigorously blow her nose in, making great snotty blowing noises. Seven year old Harry relinquished his strangle hold on Minerva and watched curiously, Mrs McGonagall wrinkled her nose in disgust and Dumbledore looked politely concerned.

'Oh, it's - just - so…. Snuffle _sad_, I - snort - oh I - ohh!' the lady wailed. A colleague of hers came across and took her around the shoulders, apologising to Dumbledore profusely, and walking 'Sue' away.

'I'm sure it's nothing a cup of tea won't cure,' said Dumbledore, 'please, there's no need to apologise.'

'Get well soon,' said Harry, holding Mrs McGonagall's hand and provoking a fresh wave of crying from the besieged saleslady.

'Give the Gentleman his handkerchief back, Sue, there's the girl, wipe your eyes now, I'm sure everything will be fine,' murmured the new lady, now holding Dumbledore's handkerchief. She turned to hand it back and was surprised to find herself holding the edge of something the size of a tablecloth, one that still had the initials 'AD' on one corner.

'I get very bad hay fever,' explained Mr Dumbledore nonchalantly, taking it back and quickly tucking it away out of sight, with only minimal difficulty considering the fact that fully half of it lay upon the floor like wilted wallpaper.

'Oh,' she said, blinking slowly, 'but-'

'I believe your colleague is in desperate need of that tea,' suggested Dumbledore, looking concerned.

'Oh yes, of course, yes. Ah, did you want any assistance?'

'No, that's fine,' said Mrs McGonagall firmly. 'We'll manage on our own.'

When the stricken lady and her friend had gone a sufficient distance, both Dumbledore and McGonagall turned to stare at Harry piercingly, almost accusingly.

'Um.. What?' asked Harry, bewildered, he didn't think he'd done anything wrong.

'The Handkerchief, Harry,' said Mrs McGonagall looking over the rim of her glasses at him.

'It's in Mr Dumbledore's pocket,' said Harry.

'You didn't do anything?' asked Dumbledore gently, but he didn't look stern, in fact he was smiling gently.

'No!' cried Harry, now looking panicky.

'You're not in trouble Harry. It's very common for magical children to unknowingly use spontaneous magic,' reassured Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily, 'You just gave us a bit of a surprise, that is all.'

'I didn't do any magic!' protested Harry, they looked at him silently. 'Did I?'

Both adults literally beamed at him, and Minerva McGonagall bent down and hugged him briefly, much to Harry's pleasure.

'Come,' said Dumbledore, congenially, 'let us purchase what we have and then have some lunch, my tummy is chewing its tail!'

'Tummies have tails?' asked Harry looking intrigued, as they approached the till.

'Intestines,' said Dumbledore, helping Minerva place the pants, socks and vests upon the desk. 'Good Morning Sir,' he smiled at the cashier, who returned the greeting warily, having seen his colleague 'Sue' reduced to tears a little earlier by the odd group.

'In test lines of what?' asked Harry, whose head did not reach the desk and who hated looking at the wooden side.

'No, intestines,' corrected Dumbledore, leaning down and swinging Harry easily up onto the desktop. 'They are a part of your body, and they start at the bottom of your tummy.'

'What do they do?' asked Harry, who was an inquisitive little boy on the whole, he kicked his legs and enjoyed the view as the till beeped away behind him.

'They digest food,' said Mr Dumbledore, giving the nervous man some muggle money.

'Which is what we are about to do,' said Minerva McGonagall, 'and then we must buy you some new glasses before we resume buying clothes.'

'We're going to digest some food?' said Harry.

'We'll put into our mouths first,' said Dumbledore, swinging Harry onto his back.

'Albus! You'll break your back!' exclaimed Minerva in alarm picking up their newly acquired clothing in bags.

'Nonsense!' cried Albus, giving Harry a bounce, 'the boy doesn't weigh a thing!'

'Then it will go down into our throats,' added Harry, with some relish, 'and into our tummies!'

'If we can find somewhere to eat,' murmured Minerva McGonagall, regarding the busy street they had just stepped out onto.

'MacDonalds!' cried Harry, pointing past Albus' head, over the heads of everyone else in the street (Albus was a very tall man), at a large yellow "M".

'I've heard about MacDonalds,' said Albus, looking enthusiastic.

'So have I,' said Minerva McGonagall, looking entirely unenthusiastic.

The queue was rather long, but as Dumbledore delightedly explained to Minerva, it wouldn't actually be very long till they were served, because it was known as 'fast food' for the fast service, to which Minerva added: and for the greasy, unhealthy foods. They reached a compromise, they would acquire some 'fast food' to 'take away' and eat in the large and beautiful Hyde park. Harry hungrily ordered a cheeseburger and coca cola with his Happy Meal, whilst Minerva grimaced and reluctantly bought a Chicken sandwich meal, with tea as her drink (something she would later regret). Albus spent much time asking questions, and annoying the people behind him, before finally ordering a Big Mac meal with a strawberry milkshake, with their food tucked securely in hands the three of them sped away to the verdant lands of Hyde Park, where seated in the shade of a gnarled oak they whiled away an hour.

* * *

'Albus, really! Harry does not need more socks! We are _looking _for trousers!' said Minerva McGonagall sharply.

'A man can never have too many clothes, _especially _not socks,' disagreed Albus, who was currently holding a pair made by Adidas that claimed to make you run faster due to the pressure points employed by the reinforced toes, heel and arch.

'Oh yes he can,' retorted Minerva, nodding her head at Harry who had just come out from the changing room wearing a pair of Maine jeans and was listening interestedly. 'Remember Professor Wax? Poor Earl, he went to borrow one of your fancy shoelaces and didn't come back for two weeks!'

Albus made a vague noise and waved her comments away, they were now in Debenhams, a large many storied department store, selling everything from saucepans to perfumes, holidays to clothes.

Harry laughed at them, and did a 360 degree whirl at Mrs McGonagall's imperial hand gesture, (she had been demanding the same of him for a while now, and Mr Dumbledore seemed to approve of Harry's whirling, and so he whirled, rather liking the unusual amount of attention this warranted).

'What does Adidas stand for, Harry?' asked Mr Dumbledore, raising one long bushy white brow in query.

'All Day I Dream About Socks,' said Harry, grinning. 'Actually, I don't know, but that sounds funny.'

'It sounds appropriate,' said Minerva McGonagall, critically tugging at the waistband of the jeans. 'There's no way you will stay this skinny whilst you are at Hogwarts, Harry. We shall have to remember to buy you trousers with room for growth!'

'We have yet to go shopping for wizard robes,' pointed out Mr Dumbledore who was sat cross legged on the floor eating a mushroom sweet from his striped bag.

'More clothes?' gaped Harry, regarding the pile beside a nearby stool.

'Not today,' said Mrs McGonagall, for some reason finding his face amusing, Harry glanced at Mr Dumbledore cautiously.

'Are we going …home soon then?'

'We have to, the shops are closing on us,' said McGonagall.

'We've managed: underwear, pyjamas, socks-'

'Plenty of socks,' interrupted Minerva, looking in one bag that was full of them.

'Shirts, tee shirts, trousers. One pair of glasses with a new prescription, a pair of trainers and some Wellingtons!' continued Albus Dumbledore. 'Not bad really, for one afternoon.'

'One _long _afternoon,' emphasised Minerva, resting on the stool and wondering why she seemed to be aching far more than Albus.

'What do you think, Harry?' asked Dumbledore holding out his hands to the boy with messy black hair and a hesitant smile.

'I think it's been great,' said Harry, smiling, he took the unspoken invitation and sat in Mr Dumbledore's lap where he was enfolded within the kind old man's arms, hiding his head by burying it in the purple suited arm, he added: 'Granddad.'

Mr Dumbledore's only response was to tighten his arms and murmur his agreement with the little boy's assessment of the day.

With a tired but admittedly happy sigh, Minerva McGonagall joined them on the floor, bending with a cat like grace, smoothing Harry's hair affectionately, and leaning comfortably against Albus (now bravely adopted Granddad), she said:

'I don't think I've ever had such a lovely day, thank you Harry, Albus,' and bent to kiss Harry's forehead from where it had perked up to reveal emerald eyes, wide with the novelty of feeling nurtured, loved even.

With a deep chuckle that reverberated in his chest against Harry's ear, Albus Dumbledore removed one of his arms and placed it around his age old friend Minerva McGonagall. He hugged her warmly to him and the small boy whose life had been so changed by the events of two days ago, and who in turn had forever changed the lives and warmed the hearts of those two loving individuals that embraced him now.

* * *

_Author's Notes_

I know that this chapter doesn't involve much 'drama', that is, not a lot happens, but this fic is more about the exploration of how characters would react in certain situations, rather than a 'Harry adventure' fic featuring evil Wizards and dark! Harry etc. Well, I sound like I'm justifying myself, but I'm just explaining, because I really want all my reviewers to enjoy this fic… well if you have criticism (constructive obviously by far the more popular with me than destructive), please do leave it in a review, for I take great pleasure in reading each and everyone of them.

Ah, don't worry, it won't all be so soppy, they'll be an incident with a certain potions master next chapter, which will be great fun to write! (I've planned you see, I'm full of ideas at half past midnight.) This fic will not be continuing for all of Harry's years, just his settling in, maybe I could do sequels, but I won't think about it now.)

Review Thanks! B***y hell, I got **88 reviews **for this chapter! I don't thank you enough do I? However, what with so many, I may have missed some of you out, and I apologise fervently, I mean no offence, I'm very grateful for any reviews received, and genuinely want to thank all of you for your support!

Lots of you asked me to update, and many appeared to think I had meant not to continue at all with this fic after OotP, which wasn't the case, I just meant a period of adjustment, and people being busy with the book itself, and not fan fiction.

So many of you said that you 'loved it', thought it 'fun', 'cute' and even tearful at some points, that I will just give everyone a great big cyber hug for making such sweet comments, and yes I value even the ones that just said 'I love it!'.

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	8. Flying and Mouldy Warts

****

Hand Me Down Clothes

Chapter Eight!

'Are you awake, Mr Dumbledore?' 

'I am now, Harry.'

'Are we still going flying today?'

'What's the weather like?' asked Mr Dumbledore, whose eyes were still closed in a futile attempt to catch just that little bit more sleep.

'It's fine!' said Harry, assuredly.

'Cloudy?' questioned Dumbledore keenly.

'Noooo…'

'No?'

'No.'

'Blue sky?'

'Ummm, yeeees,' hedged Harry, shiftily.

'Yes? Or no?'

'It's kind of dark still, Granddad.'

'That would be because it's only six thirty, Harry.'

'Do you think we'll be able to go flying?' asked Harry, hopefully.

'I think so,' approved Dumbledore, opening his eyes to see Harry's excited form before him, wearing his Gryffindor lion pyjamas. 

'Would you like a cup of tea, Granddad?'

'I would very much like a cup of tea, Harry,' smiled Dumbledore, 'but if you're going to get one, please put on your dressing gown and my slippers.'

'Yes sir,' said Harry, he beamed at Dumbledore then disappeared from the old man's view. 'I'll be right back,' Harry called as the large bedroom door swung easily open at his touch and he padded through it, slightly encumbered by Dumbledore's large slippers.

Harry was greeted by a dozy Fawkes who cooed and then tucked his head back beneath a vibrant wing, the office had that strangely empty presence, without Dumbledore there, and in the eerie grey light of morning.

The revolving stairs were a little sluggish, but Harry was not deterred, and cheerfully greeted a grouchy gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office, before setting off to find the kitchens, confident that he would be able to find them.

Twenty minutes later he wasn't so sure, did they have kitchens here? After all, it was a magical school, maybe they just magicked cups of tea into existence! And it was beginning to get darker and dingier down here, with the stairs surrounded by high walls and ominous painting. Nervously Harry decided to ask one of the men in the paintings if he could help, Mr Dumbledore had introduced him to the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts, a Mr Dippy, who was dead, yet apparently still able to talk in picture frames, yesterday.

'Excuse me, Sir, but can you help me? I'm looking for someone who knows the way to the kitchens,' Harry asked politely of a thin but dapper looking man dressed in, had Harry known it, Slytherin colours.

The picture made no reply accept to twitch one of it's eyebrows disdainfully, as if little boys were beneath it's notice, still, Harry was used to this sort of reaction and immediately made to back off, when, quite unexpectedly, the picture swung aside and out stepped a man. Tall and angular wearing many layers of black, only his back was apparent as the stranger raised his wand and muttered a few choice curses, Harry wondered whether this was a real man who could help him, or just a picture man who had stepped out of his frame.

The tall man turned around sharply and came face to face with Harry, who gave a shy smile.

'ARRRGGHHH!' yelled Severus Snape, who wasn't accustomed to coming across what looked like a James Potter who had gotten in the way of a shrinking potion, wearing fluffy lion pyjamas and huge tartan slippers. 

'Hello,' said Harry, twisting his hands together and wondering if he was in trouble.

The tall man, who had sallow skin and greasy black hair that would have made Aunt Petunia's fingers itch for the kitchen scissors, stared at Harry as if he was a ghost, but a ghost that made him very, very mad.

'You! You…. YOU!' he roared, Harry backed away. 'How dare you come down here! You think you can go where you want! You, just like your damn father! You, YOU!-'

'I just want to find the kitchens, Sir,' said Harry who was backed against the wall as this stranger towered over him and bellowed like an angry bull.

'DON'T SPEAK WHEN I'M TALKING! Your father didn't have any manners either, rude, ignorant egotistic fool!'

'I-'

'_Shut UP!_' roared Severus Snape, and grabbed Harry by his dressing gown, lifting him off the floor and shaking him so that he flopped around like a rag doll.

'_ENOUGH_!' suddenly came forth a voice, so strong and mighty that the very walls trembled, and froze Severus Snape in his position holding Harry by the scruff of his neck above the stony ground.

'You will release him, _now_,' continued the voice, now dreadfully quiet, smooth as ice and as dangerous.

Severus Snape immediately loosened his hold on Harry and the boy fell, dizzy and bruised to the floor, Snape swallowed hard and stared straight ahead at nothing.

'Harry?' asked Albus Dumbledore, coming forward and offering a hand to the cowering child, Harry flinched and Albus Dumbledore looked heart broken.

'Harry, it's me, Granddad,' he knelt beside the crumpled blue dressing gown and messy ebony locks and softly touched the boy's shoulder. 

A few murmured words of comfort and some reassurances and Harry was in Dumbledore's arms, this left Dumbledore in a quandary, he could not reprimand Severus with Harry tensed in his arms, it would upset the boy.

He settled for a quiet warning, 'I don't _ever_ want to see that kind of behaviour again! We will talk more on this later, Severus, you can be sure of it.'

The Slytherin Head of House let his lips curl into a scowl, so Potter had already become the Headmaster's favourite, how unsurprising, how terribly sickening, but he didn't say anything, no one fooled with Dumbledore when Dumbledore stopped playing the idiot and grew so magically fearsome.

Dumbledore picked up Harry with him as he rose again, and slipped his slippers back onto Harry's feet, they had fallen off as Severus shook him.

'Come Harry, I shall show you the way to the kitchens, I believe you owe me a cup of tea!'

*"*"*"*

'Now, this is a Comet two sixty, an old model, but one that's best to learn on. Remember what I said, kick off from the ground, hover and then lean forward to land smoothly again. Don't go too high! Do as I tell you! Okay?'

'Yes, Madame Hooch,' agreed Harry, happily.

It was eleven o'clock in the morning and Harry, Madame Hooch, Mrs McGonagall and Granddad were stood in the middle of the quidditch stadium, of which Harry was still in awe, the grass was green and soft beneath their feet and sandpits covered the ground beneath the goal posts. Towering far above, reaching up to the clouds, rose the four house boxes and the two staff boxes, all bare of decoration, for they were in for cleaning before the school term started again and in the distance, the three goal posts stood proud at either end of the pitch.

'Now, stick your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!',' commanded Madame Hooch, who was enjoying herself thoroughly, although somewhat worried about what the Headmaster might do to her if she allowed any harm to come to his newly acquired Grandson.

'UP!' cried Harry, and the broom jerked up and smacked reassuringly right into his hand, Harry grinned.

'Oh, goody!' said Madame Hooch. 'You're going to take after your father!'

'Don't make the boy nervous,' snapped Minerva McGonagall, who was worried about the Ravenclaw third years timetable, she thought she might have double booked their Charms with first year Hufflepuffs.

'Mount!' said Madame Hooch briskly, ignoring Minerva, Harry eagerly did as he was told, the broom was rather large for him but they had been fairly confident he could handle it. 'Keep that wrist straight, that's it! Now then, on my mark, one two three -kick off!'

And Harry kicked off. Straight into the air like an arrow, no wobble or sliding off the end, up and up he soared and felt like a bird, free to fly away from troubles or worries, fears and pains. Turning the handle he turned sharply, eliciting gasps from his audience had he been close enough to hear them, and banked into a steep climb before abruptly twisting and shooting at breakneck speed toward the ground, coming up at just the last moment before he would have surely crashed.

Curving around he made his way back to his spectators, carving a snake like path through the air before landing expertly before Madame Hooch, breathless and happier than he'd been in a long time.

'Seven years old,' whispered Madame Hooch, hands gripping her silver whistle tightly. 'Seven years old! Mark my words boy, you're for professional quidditch when you leave Hogwarts!'

'With yet a decade in education to go, Georgina, we can possibly expect better things from the Boy Who Lived than a short career in sports,' said McGonagall acerbically.

'What's wrong with a career in sports!' demanded Georgina Hooch, glaring at McGonagall.

'Whose the Boy Who Lived?' piped up Harry interrupting a possible argument.

The three adults stopped and looked at each other uneasily.

'He's you,' finally said Dumbledore, calmly blinking as if he was doing a lot of thinking behind his benevolent expression.

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Why?'

The two woman looked at Dumbledore, who sighed in resignation.

'It's a long story Harry, I'll tell you this evening, now you can do more flying.'

'Why can't I know now?'

'I thought you might want to do some more flying,' said Dumbledore, who was not looking forward to having this conversation with Harry, it saddened him to have to tell the boy such unhappy things. Harry paused and weighed it up.

'Can't I know now and do some more flying?' he asked suggestively, seeking Dumbledore's approval.

'Well yes, I suppose you can,' reluctantly agreed Dumbledore, he glanced at the two ladies who were still eying each other with some scorn.

'I have some timetables to sort out,' said Mrs McGonagall suddenly, 'I shall see you at dinner, Harry,' she turned and quickly strode away.

A more pointed glance was needed for Madame Hooch who was still marvelling over her newly discovered flying prodigy.

'Ah, I have some brooms to uh, polish,' she said, then winced at her own blatant lie, school brooms were so old that polishing would turn them into coal.

'Do you have something to do, too?' asked Harry turning to face the only adult left.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore, Harry's face fell. 'I have to tell you a story about when you were just a little baby…' Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured up from apparently nowhere a bright yellow blanket, upon which he sat, and produced a bag of lemon drops from within his robes. 'Join me Harry,' he said, and patted the space next to him invitingly. Harry obligingly sat, eyes intent upon the Headmaster.

'Now, you know that your parents were killed?'

'Yes, you told me so,' said Harry quietly.

'Well they were killed by a very evil wizard-'

'Evil?' asked Harry, looking worried. 

'Some wizards, just like people who aren't magical in your Aunt and Uncle's world, are bad, they hurt people in the name of power and purity,' Dumbledore paused, seeing Harry's expression begin to become a little glazed.

'There are bad wizards as well as good ones, Harry,' he simplified.

'Okay,' said Harry.

'Now this bad wizard's name was Voldemort,'

'Voldemort,' repeated Harry, 'funny name, sounds like a mouldy wart.'

Dumbledore chuckled, 'For some reason he liked it, he chose it when he became the Dark Lord Voldemort and started gathering followers in his dark and evil ways.'

'Oooh,' said Harry, who was actually finding the tale a little entertaining.

'Voldemort killed everyone who stood in his way, Harry. Nobody lived when he decided they should die, his followers, called Deatheaters inspired terror by torture and terrible terrorist attacks on the public, people were afraid, Harry, very afraid.'

Harry nodded, swallowing hard, the tale was getting scary, but he stayed where he was and listened. 

'Now your parents were crucial in the fight against Voldemort, they had defied him three times and lived! Voldemort knew this and was angry, so one night in October he came to your parents house, where they lived with their son, with you. You were just one year old!'

'What happened next?' asked Harry, Dumbledore leaned forward and took Harry's hands in his.

'Voldemort killed your parents, Harry. Your father died trying to protect his wife and child, and your mother tried to save you from the killing curse and received it herself.'

Dumbledore paused as Harry snuffled and blinked hard, it was not a pleasant thing to hear, the details of your parents deaths.

'Then, Harry, then Voldemort turned his wand upon you, a one year old boy, whose parents he had just murdered in cold blood, and uttered the curse to end your life. But it did not work! The curse rebounded from you onto it's originator and Voldemort was defeated, and fled, weakened, a shadow of the power he had once been!'

'What?' exclaimed Harry. 'Voldemort tried to kill me?'

'Yes, Harry.'

'But why couldn't he kill me, if he killed all those people, and my mummy and daddy?'

'Your mother sacrificed herself for you Harry, she gave her life to try and save yours, and that is a very powerful protection indeed!'

'I… I don't understand,' stuttered Harry.

'Your mother's love protected you even when she was dead, Harry, that is why Voldemort could not kill you, that is why you bear that scar upon your forehead, that is why you are known throughout the wizarding world as the Boy Who Lived!'

Harry was very quiet after this startling news, silently digesting it and wriggling his toes in his new trainers as his brows knotted in thought.

'But,' he said suddenly, frowning in concentration, 'how come nobody else had defeated Voldemort before now? Didn't anybody love anybody else enough?'

'I'm sorry?' asked Dumbledore.

'If love can save you from the killing curse, then why didn't anybody else survive?'

Dumbledore paused, it was a darn good question and he did some quick thinking, he was already skirting several issues that he didn't want Harry to know about for many years yet.

'The love, Harry, has to be so strong that you would sacrifice yourself for the object of your love, sometimes only mothers can have that sort of special love.'

'I thought you said he had killed families before, wouldn't the mummies in them have wanted to save their children?'

'Well, yes, Harry, but your circumstances were unique,' hedged Dumbledore.

'Oh,' said Harry, Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief and then felt guilty for doing so. 'Why?' asked Harry forthrightly, Dumbledore twitched nervously.

'Well, you're really too young to understand Harry,' he said and the guilt that scourged him inside made the old man unhappy for many days.

'Oh,' said Harry, 'Okay,' he accepted. 'Will you tell me when I'm older?'

'Yes, Harry, I promise!' agreed Dumbledore fervently.

'Did my mummy and daddy give me to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?' asked Harry.

'No, Harry.'

'Then who did they give me to?'

'They gave you to somebody else, but he, he couldn't take you,' Dumbledore prevaricated, uneasily.

'Why not, Mr Dumbledore?'

'Sometimes grownups aren't able to take care of a child Harry, that's all,' explained Dumbledore.

'Is this something else you'll tell me when I'm old enough to understand?' Harry sounded a little peeved.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' chuckled Dumbledore, wrapping an arm around the boys shoulders.

'Who gave me to the Dursleys then?' asked Harry. 'Why couldn't I come straight to you?'

'The Dursleys were your next of kin, therefore your next legal guardians,' said Dumbledore, wondering if he was starting to sweat, he had never known such interrogation.

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Does the person who gave me to them, know you've taken me away?'

'Yes, Harry, because it was I who gave you to the Dursleys, and I'm more sorry than you'll ever know about that decision.'

'I thought it might have been,' said Harry, surprising Dumbledore, who looked down, amazed at the little boy's intuitiveness. 'It's okay, I'm glad I'm with you now.'

'I'm glad that you're here, Harry,' said Dumbledore, taking a deep breath, very much relieved that question time was over.

*"*"*"*

At dinner that night the professors were all seated and just beginning to enjoy the meal, with a few late arrivals, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were involved in a discussion involving the latest edition of Transfiguration Today and Harry had slipped away unnoticed.

Cautiously he made his way behind the chairs, small enough to attract little notice as he did so, then gathering his courage he pulled on the black sleeve of Severus Snape.

'What the- _Potter!'_ snarled Professor Snape upon seeing the boy at his sleeve. 'Get off me, and don't you dare touch me again!' and went back to his meal only to feel another tug at his sleeve, mindful of his promised talk with the Headmaster, Severus did not yell, with the result that he snarled from between clenched teeth.

'_What?_

'I'm sorry about this morning,' said Harry so quietly that it was indistinguishable from the inane chatter of the staff and the noise of eating utensils. 

'What?' queried Professor Snape, leaning down to hear, against his better judgement.

'I'm sorry about this morning,' repeated Harry, obediently.

Snape stared.

'But Mr Dumbledore says you shouldn't have shook me,' added Harry, braver now that Mr Sallow Skin was no longer snarling.

'Oh shouldn't have I?' snapped Snape, tetchily.

'No, you should have just told me to go away, and I would have. Granddad says that violence is never the answer,' answered Harry very confidently.

'Oh and Granddad's always right is he?' asked Snape, sarcastically.

'No,' admitted Harry, smiling, 'but he knows a lot of things, and has lots of cool socks and sweeties.'

Snape stared.

'When the Graddad's your boss, it's best to agree,' pointed out Fred Flitwick, with a slight smirk.

Snape cursed under his breath and turned back to his meal. Before long some one tugged at his sleeve.

'_Go away_!' he hissed, gripping his knife and fork so hard his knuckles went white.

'Um, did you accept my apology?' asked Harry, Snape turned around and growled at the boy before turning, once again back to his meal.

Harry, eyes wide, stared at the back of Snape's head, had he just growled? How odd these wizards were! He giggled and then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth as the man's back went tense, but more giggles found their way out, and the harder he tried to keep them in the more that came out and the louder they got!

'Care to share what the joke is, _Potter?_' hissed an irate Snape, poking a fork in Harry's face.

'No, Sir!' smartly answered Harry, and got a filthy look for his troubles.

'Then leave _me **alone!**_' said Professor Snape, so furious that one of his knuckles cracked and a cricket ball of a headache formed just behind his right temple.

'Yes, Sir!' rapped Harry, standing to attention for Professor Flitwick's benefit, who had turned and winked at the small messy haired boy. 'Good night, sir,' Harry added before making good his escape and returning to his seat at beside Minerva McGonagall.

'Where've you been?' she asked him curiously, an eyebrow raised royally.

'I went to visit Mr Sallow Skin and say sorry for scaring him this morning,' readily explained Harry.

'Who?' asked McGonagall, thinking she had misheard.

'Do all wizards growl?' asked Harry, digging into Shepard's pie with accompanying veg and gravy.

'What?' asked McGonagall again, now totally confused.

'Growl,' repeated Harry, he grinned disarmingly up at her as she floundered for words.

'Just occasionally,' said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily as he peered around McGonagall's flustered form at Harry. 'That was very brave of you Harry, to go and apologise to Mr Snape.'

'Very brave,' nodded Poppy Pomfrey, from a little further down the table where she and others were listening in.

'He doesn't seem very cheerful,' said Harry.

'Over grown bat,' muttered Sinistra, the normally introverted Astronomy professor.

The giggles spread the length of the table.

'Is he really a bat?' whispered Harry, enquiring of McGonagall, for he was not sure what the boundaries were in this weird yet wonderful world of magic, unfortunately his high pitched voice carried, and Severus Snape snarled viciously at his innocent mashed potatoes.

'Investigation is still ongoing,' answered Professor Vector, rather wickedly, as earthy Professor Sprout chortled and sprayed food over her dinner area.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and order was restored, Professor Snape, red as a radish on heat, left swiftly, without eating desert.

'Over dramatic vampire,' said Sinistra, derogatively.

'Hush!' ordered Vector, Pomfrey and Sprout, repressively, glancing apprehensively at Dumbledore and Harry.

Some time passed till Harry thought it safe to pipe up again and ask whether all wizards were descended from animal origin, he didn't, however, understand the amusement, nor the discussion this sparked off, which was probably a very good thing.

*"*"*"*"*"*"*

A/N: This fic is nearing it's end, but now I'm here I find myself wondering what Harry's later years will be like, etc, should I write a sequel? Or should I let sleeping fics lie?

Still, it's not over just yet! Next update could be some time, as I'm off to University (ach noooo! Just given away my age! LOL) and will be very busy settling in etc.

****

Thank you to all my faithful reviewers, and to those who are new! Please leave reviews, I love to hear from you all! It's so amazing that all these people have loved the magical world of Harry Potter so much, that they visit the web to explore more of his world! I would also be interested in hearing your ideas for future fics, I love throwing idea's around!


	9. Adoption and Purple Dragons

It's the long awaited update! Don't faint –it's for real, even gave me a shock!

This is an AU fic, started before book five, therefore Mrs Arabella Figg is, in my universe, a retired Auror who was asked to live as a muggle in order to further protect the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hand-Me-Down Clothes

_Chapter Nine_

_That damn bird of his, it was huffing! Oh yes it was definitely giving him the evil eye, ridiculous flouncing peacock of a pest…_

Severus Snape glowered at the bird perched by the door, and turned his back on it, shifting to his other foot, curling his hands restlessly around each other he impatiently waited to be acknowledged by the silver haired man, seated in front of him behind an oval desk, covered in various bits of paper and a muggle newspaper. For the last five minutes Severus had been trying to read it upside down, as Dumbledore was engrossed in writing a letter and had as yet given no sign he knew Severus was there.

Even as he thought this, the Headmaster set aside his quill and ink, rolled and sealed the letter and looked up at him.

'Ah, Severus Snape.'

If that wasn't enough to give Severus the willies, the man didn't invite him to sit, have tea, or even have a sherbet lemon, oh he was in _really_ really deep shit.

'Do you have anything to say?' Dumbledore asked, an eyebrow rising from a twinkle-less eye.

Severus gritted his teeth.

'No,' he spat, and then seeing the eyebrow lower again, added: 'Sir.'

Dumbledore sighed, with the world weary tone a mother uses on her naughty children, Severus caught it, and scowled that he should be treated so.

'If you act like a sulky school boy, Severus, so shall I treat you,' admonished Albus, with that astonishing ability to see directly into your mind.

Uncomfortably, Severus shifted to his other foot and attempted to clear his mind, he never truly expected to win against Dumbledore in a battle of Legilimens, something about the man made you incredibly open. Perhaps it was that damn twinkle –there it was again, as if the man found his thoughts amusing, him amusing! It was an offence to the very Slytherin core of his being!

'Oh, Severus,' said Albus, chuckling lightly. 'This will stop.'

'What?' he demanded.

Dumbledore simply looked at him, and for some reason Snape found himself slightly ashamed, which annoyed him to no end.

'Harry is not James,' said Dumbledore firmly.

'Could've fooled me,' muttered Snape.

'You are fooling yourself,' said the Headmaster. 'You will not find peace for your tortured memories in bullying Harry. You would do much better to befriend the boy, -'

'Are you mad?' interrupted Severus, eyes bulging.

'I believe that question has already been addressed by many parties,' replied Albus seriously, 'but on this issue, I can assure you I am completely sane… I think.'

'I'm not making friends with the boy!' snapped Severus.

'No?' said Dumbledore, perching his fingers and leaning back in his chair, his light blue eyes intense on Snape's.

'No!' exclaimed Severus, forcefully.

Dumbledore made a vague noise in the back of his throat.

'No,' said Snape again, sounding a little unsure.

Another vague noise, and a slight tilt of the head, Snape began to feel desperate.

'I hate the boy!'

'Tsk!' said Dumbledore. 'You don't know the boy!'

'I know I hate him, he's just like his-'

'He is _not_ just like his father, but! you wouldn't know that because _you don't know the boy._'

'And have no desire to,' snarled Snape, wondering if he could make it to the window if he sprinted, unless of course, the old sod had nailed the windows shut.

'No?' asked Dumbledore again, with that infinitesimal touch of curiosity.

'_No!' _said Snape, twitching.

'As you wish,' said Dumbledore, calmly, waiting.

'I wish!' said Snape, furiously.

'What do you wish?'

'To leave!'

'As you wish. Would you mind looking after Harry for an hour after lunch though, I'm afraid I'm dreadfully busy.'

'Yes, yes, of course!' hissed Severus, frantic to make his escape.

'Good, good, my apologies for taking up your time.'

'Uh,' said Severus, now completely wrong-footed, was Dumbledore, apologising… he shook his head and turned to leave, befuddled.

'Oh just one more thing, Severus,' called Dumbledore, cheerfully. Snape paused in the act of reaching for the handle, fixed his face into a grimace of accommodating pleasure and swivelled to see two steely grey eyes fixed like gimlets upon his own.

'Make one harsh move or word to Harry and the consequences will be more than dire. Hearken to me well Severus, for I do not 'fool' around on this, harm the boy, and I harm you, understood?'

Severus dumbly nodded.

'Good,' smiled Dumbledore benignly, 'Have a wonderful time this afternoon!'

And Severus Snape left. About three steps down the hallway he started screaming.

^*"^*"^

'…And then I turned and raced back towards Granddad, really fast, and Granddad laughed but Mrs McGonagall dived out the way and Madame Hooch was jumping up and down, really excited and-'

'Harry,' interrupted Mrs Figg.

'Yes, Mrs Figg?'

'I take it you like flying?'

'Yes! It's great! I can-'

'Good good, but do you suppose you could take me to see Duh-Granddad?'

'Oh, okay,' Harry looked a bit crestfallen. They were stood in the foyer and Mrs Figg, once again clad in robes, rather than those dreadfully uncomfortable and restricting muggle clothes, looking approvingly at Harry's change of clothing and attitude.

'I came to see you too, Harry, but I must see Granddad first, about something very important,' she explained, her words soothing the lines from his forehead.

'Okay,' Harry smiled. 'He's in his office, he sent me to answer the doorbell.' He puffed out his chest, obviously feeling very important, Mrs Figg hid a smile and then scowled as they started up a staircase, leading to another staircase, which, she now recalled, led to another staircase, _damn this blasted school_.

Some time later they reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, on seeing Harry it winked and leapt aside, even as Dumbledore opened the door at the top of his office to look down upon them.

'I was beginning to wonder what was keeping you,' he said, his form illuminated from behind with the light in his room.

Mrs Figg said something beneath her breath, which, had Harry been paying closer attention, would have been unforgivable, but little Harry was looking exceedingly depressed.

'What brings you to my neck of the woods, Arabella?' enquired Dumbledore politely, offering her a seat in front of his desk: she sat with a relieved sigh, before fixing him with a look that could strip paint.

'Just how long were you planning to wait?'

'Wait?'

'Until you informed the Ministry!' snapped Mrs Figg.

'Oh, that,' said Albus, as if it were something that had just slipped his mind.

'Yes that!' glared Mrs Figg, now looking furious.

'Would you like some tea?'

'_Albus!_ The Minister is coming, today! He hit the roof when he heard! Dumbledore, you fool!'

'Now, Arabella,' gently protested the so insulted man.

'He's going to take Harry away! Idiot!' barked Mrs Figg, actually looking quite upset.

There was a soft cry from the window seat, both adults swivelled to see Harry looking absolutely distraught.

'I knew that was why you came!' cried Harry. 'I'm going to be taken away!'

Dumbledore looked at Mrs Figg and then back to Harry, firmly he said:

'No Harry, I am not going to allow you to be taken away.'

Mrs Figg's lips tightened, and she made a disapproving noise, it was quite clear she believed Dumbledore was giving the boy false hopes, Harry heard and understood.

'You promised!' said Harry, looking betrayed. 'You promised, you gave me your word, you said: "never ever ever"!'

Albus Dumbledore stepped quickly over to Harry and knelt before the small boy, he clasped Harry's shoulders, looked him in the eye and spoke with all his heart.

'Harry, I swear to you that my promise stands, and will not be broken, the Minister will not be able to take you from me, I will never _ever _allow that, do you believe me?'

Harry's emerald eyes watered, he was terribly afraid he was going to have to go back to the Dursleys, back to being unwanted, unhappy, living in a cupboard, wearing hand-me-down clothes and most of all, being unloved.

'Harry,' whispered Dumbledore, a tear in his eye, whatever it was he saw in Harry's eyes hurt him. 'I love you, child.'

There was a moment of tense silence, and then Harry gave a great gasp, to swallow his tears, 'Please don't let them take me away, Granddad.'

'Never in a million years, Harry,' said Dumbledore, eyes shining, his face set in a determined fashion.

Harry gave a tentative little smile, and to Dumbledore it was the brightest sunray in the world, the old man lifted a hand to brush away a tear and Harry flew into his arms.

'Oh thank you Granddad, thank you, thank you!' said little Harry Potter, still feeling as though every happiness was a favour and not a gift, new to love and joy.

'Shush, dear boy, no thanks is needed, am I not your granddad?' and it was as he said this that blinding realisation struck. 'Of course!' he muttered beneath his breath, excitedly. 'Harry, how would you like to be my real Grandson?'

Harry lifted his head curiously. 'Aren't I already?' he queried.

'Yes, yes, but what if you were in name as well as deed?'

'Oh no Albus,' said Mrs Figg. 'Are you off your rocker?'

'Not in this, no,' said Dumbledore, standing and wondering if there was something about his moustache today, making him look odder than usual.

'I don't understand,' said Harry.

'Would you like to be adopted, Harry?' asked Dumbledore, quite seriously, grinning widely.

'Adopted?' said Harry, looking alarmed. 'By who?'

'By whom,' corrected Mrs Figg, sounding remarkably like Mrs McGonagall.

'Me of course!' laughed Albus, 'Who else had you in mind?'

'You? You're going to adopt me?' asked Harry.

'If you …' Dumbledore paused. 'Do you think it's a good idea?'

'I think it's a brilliant idea!' said Harry, jumping up onto Dumbledore's lap, as the Headmaster took his seat. 'Can you?'

'I don't see why not,' beamed Dumbledore.

'Dumbledore,' said Mrs Figg, sourly. 'The ministry will never allow you to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived.'

'Oh yes they will,' disagreed Dumbledore, calmly.

'Oh no they –' Figg stopped. 'Dumbledore, he is-'

'And **I **am _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_.'

The argument ceased. Mrs Figg, ex-auror, reflected mentally that Dumbledore was quite right: the ministry was not going to deny the most powerful light wizard in the world from adopting a little boy. Especially if he did _that, _the Minister would wet his pants.

'It's no use crying over spilt milk,' she said under her breath, eventually. 'I wish you both all the luck in the world. Don't forget to write, Harry Potter-Dumbledore.'

'Do you have to go?' asked Harry sadly.

'I must, the Minister may be arriving anytime, and I cannot be seen to have 'tipped you off'.'

'I understand, Arabella,' said Dumbledore, nodding his head, his blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at her. 'Thank you.'

'It wouldn't have been necessary if you'd only called the Minister,' she muttered nearly under her breath, grumpy at the thought of walking down all those stairs again.

'Allow Fawkes,' offered Dumbledore, politely, and with much relief Mrs Figg avoided the stairs and left instead, in a spectacular blaze of flame.

'I suspect he did that to impress you,' said Dumbledore, looking down at a very impressed Harry.

'Will she be burnt?' asked a concerned Harry.

'No,' said Dumbledore, confidently.

'Will I really get your name?'

'You will have my name, if you wish.'

'I wish!' said Harry, happily, immediately reminding Dumbledore of someone else.

'Ah,' said the wise man. 'I will have much to do this afternoon Harry, would you mind if one of the other professors took care of you?'

Harry thought about it. 'I come back to you at tea?'

'Oh yes!' said Dumbledore. 'It is _just_ for the afternoon, Harry.'

Harry nodded solemnly in agreement just as Dumbledore's office door crashed open.

'Hello Severus,' Dumbledore said, without looking up, Harry's face was the picture of impending doom- he was _such _a bright boy. 'There's been a change of plans…'

^*"^*"^

Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class (which truth to tell, came with the office, unless you already had one of course- like _Dumbledore_), was puffed. He was huffed and he was puffed but certainly not up to blowing any houses down, it had just started to rain, the fat heavy rain of summer storms, and to top it off, it was thundering, and if there was anything that scared Fudge more than You-Know-Who and muggle clowns, it was thunderstorms.

The clouds rolled over his head, grey and black furies, rain thrashed down at an angle designed to penetrate every possible gap in his so-called waterproof cloak, and despite his best attempts at a repellent charm, he was getting soaked. A crash of thunder split the heavens and the Minister dashed ungainly beneath a tree, lightening flashed jagged above the forbidden forest and something rustled in the leaves above…

There had never been an unhappier Minister for Magic.

When finally he reached the great front doors of Hogwarts, at a cowering run, he was rather bedraggled, he stood in the front hall, dripping and dejected, furious at Dumbledore and wishing he had thought to command a floo entrance (only allowed for V.I.P's and emergencies).

A warming charm was ineffective and a drying charm didn't stand a chance against his mass of soaked clothing, he looked around for someone to vent his discomfort on: in the distance someone with a pile of books floating beside him or her was striding into a dimly-lit corridor.

'You there!' he shouted, and realised as she turned that he had pointed at the uppish, waspish deputy Headmistress. 'Tell Dumbledore I'm here to see him.'

'The Headmaster is expecting you,' Professor McGonagall replied coolly. 'You may go straight up.' And without another word or gesture swept on.

'The Headmaster is expecting you,' he mimicked sarcastically, irritated, his usually affable composure absent.

It took him half an hour to climb the staircases to Dumbledore's office, his clothes were drying stiff on him, he could feel his toes wrinkling like dried dates and his hair was frizzy. 'Oh when I get to Dumbledore's office,' he threatened beneath his breath, 'oh boy will he regret this, oh boy yes…'

^*"^*"^

/Half-an-hour earlier: Pragmon Pope Solicitors ~ Est. 312 BC/

'Dumbledore, old fellow! Well, this is a pleasant surprise!'

'Hello, Theoros Pragmon,' greeted Dumbledore pleasantly.

'Ah, business or pleasure, old friend?'

'Business I'm afraid, I must call in that favour.'

'Ah, yes, uh-hem, of course, one moment.' Theoros Pragmon's wrinkled head disappeared from the fire, the old man had been around for as long as most people could remember their grandparents talking of him, naturally, Albus had known him for longer.

There were some confused voices beyond the fire, it seemed one of Pragmon's younger grandson's was protesting his Grandfather's sudden and unexplained cancelling of the afternoon's appointments. Theoros' first and only son, Dikastes Pragmon, interrupted the protests of his fifth son, his deep voice could be heard counselling patience and wisdom, apparently the famous diplomacy of the Pragmon Popes had yet to be imparted to this young impetuous newcomer.

The _Pragmon Pope_ _Solicitors_ were an ancient establishment with an excellent reputation, as such, in order to be able to afford their services one needed much wealth and social standing. Dumbledore had both these necessary requirements yet did not need to call upon them, a long time ago now Theoros Pragmon, given sudden and unexpected control of the family business after his father died suddenly (of natural causes, rich, powerful peoples solicitors were rarely murdered, it was seen as unprofessional) had made some unwise business decisions.

It was only thanks to Dumbledore that his business and the honour of his family name remained intact, he was firmly on the side of light now, and there was an unspoken understanding that Dumbledore and any heirs he might ever produce would have the complete and honest professional services of the _Pragmon Pope Solicitors, _should they request it_._ Theoros and his son, Dikastes and his eldest son, Trygaios, (and one day _his_ eldest son) were all quietly and respectfully aware of this unspoken arrangement, for it worked both ways, any business patronised by the great Albus Dumbledore profited mightily from the reputation this garnered, for however secret things were, occasionally, Dumbledore allowed this information to slip past, as an unspoken appreciation of the completely unknown tasks they sometimes performed for him.

Yes, confusing perhaps, but Albus Dumbledore had many such _understandings_ within the magical and non-magical community: they were the key to his power and his huge network of informants, though he did not see it in quite that fashion.

'Right!' said Theoros, his head appearing once again in the green flames. 'I shall be there directly.'

'Excellent,' beamed Dumbledore. 'My thanks.'

^*"^*"^

'What are we going to do Mr Snape?' asked Harry panting as he tried to keep up with the tall man's fast paces.

'Do?' came the snarling answer. 'I tell you what I'm going to do, I'm going to throw you from the top of the astronomy tower if you don't stop asking your infernal questions!'

Harry giggled, 'You're funny,' he smiled up at the surprised face above him. Snape looked disgusted. 'Half–wit,' he muttered under his breath, Harry didn't hear, they had just entered a room that he had never seen before, it was rather like a cave, dark and gloomy, but with the most fascinating things in it. Tables filled more than half the space, with wooden stools standing empty beside them, huge black cooking bowls stood on each desk and test tubes and bottles full of weird and slightly disgusting things lined the walls on rickety shelves. It was a little boys dream hideout, with shadows to hide in and sticky, gungy looking substances in pots, a place where battles could be fought and potions created to save the world from Dr Hyde. Plus, and a huge plus, if he got hungry he could help Mr Snape with his cakes, Harry liked cakes, he'd had more in a week here than he had in six years with the Dursleys, which was not to say he was being spoilt with sweets here.

'I have to make a potion,' said Snape, his lips curled. 'You are not to leave this classroom, but you are to entertain yourself, quietly! Understand, whelp?'

'Yes Sir!' said Harry, already thinking of the fearsome battle he would have with the huge fire-breathing dragon currently residing at the back of the cave.

Some time later, Harry had forgotten to be quiet and was making quite a ruckus, knocking down cauldrons and tables as he battled his dragon with the leg from a broken chair.

'Back! Back I say!' he roared and swung widely with his long unwieldy sword, there was a louder than usual crash as he struck a weak shelf and it fell, six bottles of potion ingredients smashed as they hit the floor, filling the air with noxious odours and strange colours. More explosions took place as the ingredients mixed and formed new, smellier compounds, Harry, startled at first, decided it was the Wicked Witch creating a diversion so that the purple dragon might eat him up. He renewed his sword swinging in earnest, 'Never! You'll never beat me! I say, Never!' he shouted in his best imitation of a Knight's chivalric bellow, when all of a sudden he was picked off his feet and swung above the ground. He looked up, surprised, at Mr Snape's purple face, 'Hello sir,' he smiled winningly, a small voice in his head telling him that perhaps he ought not to have broken the shelf.

'I'll _sir_ you!' hissed Snape, looking alarmingly enraged, to Harry it just looked as though he was choking.

'Water helps,' he said kindly.

'I _know_ that,' snapped Snape, thinking he was talking about the mess of potions covering his classroom floor: he gripped the boy tighter by his collar, and a voice suddenly echoed eerily in his head. _One harsh move…just one harsh move or word to Harry… harm the boy and I harm you. _He put Harry down carefully,'Damn it!'

^*"^*"^*"^*"^

Cornelius Fudge banged open the door to Dumbledore's office, he could hear the murmur of voices inside and took savage pleasure in the fact that he could legitimately order that person or persons to leave, being the Minister of Magic.

'Good Afternoon, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore, without even glancing his way, he was seated behind his desk, but next to him, next to him was Theoros Pragmon!

'Dumbledore, you and I need to speak, alone,' said Fudge, trying to look authoritative, even as he knew he stood looking untidy, damp and unkempt.

'Sir Dumbledore has requested my presence,' said Pragmon, his smartly pressed robes with their top-of-the-range material, only serving as a contrast to Fudge's robes.

'Then _Sir Dumbledore_ can tell you to go away again!' said Fudge rudely, his day had not been going well and now the fool had to use Dumbledore's knighthood.

'We were just discussing Harry,' said Dumbledore, interrupting quietly, looking politely interested in Fudge's reaction.

'Harry Potter!' exclaimed the Minister.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'I am adopting him.'

Fudge laughed.

It was a mistake.

Five minutes later he had never been so convinced that Dumbledore adopting the Boy-Who-Lived was a good idea. In fact it was a _fabulous _idea, and as he helped the solicitor and Dumbledore draw up the deed he couldn't help but keep mentioning what a fantastic idea it was.

_^*"^*"^_

/Dinner time at Hogwarts/

The staff table was full, busy and loud with the gossip and business of the professors, who were looking with some trepidation at the beginning of their last week of freedom. One little boy, with jet black hair and vivid green eyes, who had recently learned that talking was not punishable by banishment to his cupboard and no food, was holding forth on his days activities to a mildly amused deputy Headmistress…

'Mr Snape teaches cooking,' said Harry happily, Mrs McGonagall looked at him, her lips twitched. 'I helped him do a bit, we were making a witches cake!'

'A witches cake?' she enquired.

''Cos it had all sorts of bits of lizard and a lot of weeds in it, and I reminded Mr Snape to put flour in, because you have to have flour in a cake, so he said okay, you make your own witches cake and I'll make mine and I did and here it is, I made it for you, because you're a witch and you're lovely!'

Mrs McGonagall took the pro-offered gift and tried to appear as if it looked vaguely appetising, it had been poured into a glass jar, but if you left it alone for a brief moment it looked as though it was trying to climb out. She made sure to screw the lid on securely.

'See, Severus, it was not so bad,' said Dumbledore further down the table, blue eyes bright over the tops of his spectacles, his Potions Master gave him a look that spoke volumes. 'I daresay you had more fun with Harry today than you even realised!' he proclaimed.

'I daresay,' growled Snape, the sleeves of his robes still smoking.

^*"^*"^

Mr Theoros Pragmon of _Pragmon Pope Solicitors_ shook his head wryly over his bedtime cocoa (a slightly tangier version of Sir Dumbledore's), as he thought over the day's events. Only Albus Dumbledore could affect such an abrupt change of heart in a man so puffed up with his own importance, only Dumbledore, with a few quiet yet somehow infinitely menacing words could manage such a thing and still send the man away an ally. Yet it seemed there would be another Dumbledore, not quite the real thing, but surely close enough, for Harry Potter-Dumbledore was sure to effect quite a powerful change in the hearts of those in his life, it was the nature of those with the twinkling eyes.

* * *

_Authors Notes_: A sequel is tempting, but at the moment I'm not sure, I shall definitely think about it, I get all sad thinking about the final chapters of this fic! :-( Yes, I'm sorry but there is but one or two more chapters left of this, and wow, I'm more upset than I thought I would be to finish it.

Other than that, if you'd like to keep up-to-date with how I'm doing on the _next _chapter of HMD Clothes check out my live journal: quillitch! (Link on my Profile page also.)

_Review Thanks go out to the most amazing people ever to have existed (LoL):_

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Pyrinsomniac: In England the standard use of speech marks and quotation marks is opposite to that in the USA, I know, dumb, but true. Thank you for your review however, I'm glad that somebody liked my less-than-pleasant Snape!

Dragenphly: Was that a hint? LoL I'm doing my best to (realistically) make Snape more friendly toward Harry, but bearing in mind canon…

Hele1: Yes, I've even read some of those fics where Harry is rescued from a terribly abusive situation by a suddenly concerned Snape, because everyone else is 'unavailable'. Some of them are okay, they just require the suspension of reality, lol.

Spork and Foon: Should know that Quillitch is immensely flattered by their pastiche, and has actually checked out their fic, unfortunately she has had no time to read the whole thing nor review, but does intend to remedy this soon. ;-)

Lydia: I am English, actually, so I really should know what I'm going on about! Thank you!

venus4280: Hmmm, Hufflepuff Harry, lol. As you can probably tell from this chapter I am setting the boy up as a potential Gryffindor, still, there is always room for surprises!

Crazy: Crazy review, made me laugh!

WeasleyTwinsLover1112: I would like to have Remus in it, but maybe in a sequel because this is near it's end. Hope you enjoyed the conversation between Albus and Severus!

npetrenko: Thank you! I'm having a great time at Uni, but it does mean less time for this fic!

Robin4: Sirius Sirius, yet again I must say that if he was going to appear in this AU it would have to be to a possibly sequel, which I am not sure will come about, like you said, depends on the plot bunnies!

Barbara Kennedy: You're quite right, Mr Sallow Skin is a big word for a 7 year old boy, andi did worry about when I posted, but only for a millisecond, lol! Still, I don't recall him having problems walking and talking at the beginning!

No, Wood is not a stick: Thank you for your lengthy and thoughtful review!

I think that is it! **Huge hugs and sherbet lemons to all of you!**


	10. Butterbeer Foam

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Author's Notes: The penultimate chapter! Eep!

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Hand-Me-Down Clothes

Chapter Ten

'Do you think he'll like it?' asked Dumbledore.

'I have no idea,' said Minerva McGonagall, poking her head into a tall blue wardrobe. 'But it has to be better than sleeping at the bottom of your bed.'

'If you'd seen what he was sleeping in before..' Dumbledore replied, a brief flash of anger in his eyes, Minerva McGonagall looked at him piercingly.

'How bad was it Albus?' she asked.

'His bedroom was a cupboard,' Dumbledore revealed, his lips tight.

'Why didn't you ch-' McGonagall stopped her angry sentence short.

'Why didn't I check up on him before?' Dumbledore finished for her, bitterness apparent in his tone. 'Because I'm a blind old fool, I thought only of his safety from the DeathEaters. I did not look to his own family to harm him.'

'They didn't..?' Minerva looked horrified.

'No.. the occasional roughness but…. No, not, not what you're thinking.'

'Thank Merlin,' the Professor of Transfiguration breathed. 'Albus, I did not mean what I said. You cannot be held responsible for the actions of his muggle relatives.'

'I should have been keeping an eye on him! I was the only one who could!'

'That is not so, and you know it! You could not have known, you did not know, and it's in the past. What you are giving Harry now counts, what he needs, a family, love, and compassion,' she spoke firmly and quite passionately.

'You are quite right of course,' said Albus, after a moment of pensive thought. 'And I must thank you for once again clearing my head and opening my eyes to the truth of a matter.'

'Well,' said Minerva, 'it must be admitted that without me your public image would not be quite so good.'

'How modest, my dear,' smiled Albus.

'I seek to ever speak truth,' she replied, her lips turning upwards into a slight indication of a smile.

'Work harder,' Dumbledore murmured, just as they heard a door slam shut in the distance and then a spectacular crashing noise that echoed ominously down the corridor. It sounded like Dumbledore's extremely valuable Ming vase may have just become a literally priceless antique.

'Oops,' said a boy's voice. 'Sorry Mr Dippy, it was the draught from Granddad's open office window.'

'Dip_pit_,' replied a muffled, slightly miffed voice. 'Now if you could just untangle my frame from the drapes…'

'I can't,' said Harry, sounding concerned. 'Fawkes is in there somewhere, I don't want to squish him.'

'Call for a house elf,' mumbled the aged voice of Headmaster Dippit.

'Peggy was with me,' said Harry, now sounding very guilty. 'I think she's the moving thing under the rug.'

'Moving thing?' said Dippit, worried. 'That's no house elf boy, is that a snake? My Vena it's a snake, help! Some one heeeelp!'

'It's not a snake, Mr Dip Peat, it's Granddad's creeping vine.'

'Creeping vine! Do you know what those things do to portraits, boy? Do you! They tear you up and rip you, eat you, gnaw you, I'm going to die!!'

'You're already dead,' pointed out Harry, unhelpfully. 'Hang on, I think I can grab the plant.' There was some rustling and then a very disgruntled and piercing squawk.

'Oops,' said Harry again. 'Sorry Fawkes.'

'Heeelp!' cried Headmaster Dippit, panicking. 'Something is tickling my knee!'

There was a lot of noisy creaks and some unhealthy crunching sounds.

'Methinks we should join the party,' said Dumbledore to his deputy, she glanced at him sharply.

'You adopted him,' she reminded him. 'I don't believe I have an invitation!'

'You don't need one,' said Dumbledore, 'You're part of the family.'

'I'm touched,' she replied dryly. 'Now go rescue your Grandson before the walls of Hogwarts collapse around us.'

'Where are you going?' he enquired.

'Away,' she said succinctly, and left by floo.

Dumbledore grumbled something under his breath, it sounded suspiciously unflattering.

'Harry James Potter-Dumbledore,' he said ominously, as he stepped out into the corridor. '_What _have you done?' and had the satisfaction of seeing a very nervous looking Harry jump practically out of his skin. 'My vase!' he exclaimed, upon seeing its ruin, he tilted his head 90 degrees to better see what was under the drapes. It looked like Sir Urchfont's armour was trying to gather itself back together again, and had mistakenly caged a distinctly ruffled Fawkes inside the body piece, Dumbledore looked at the little black haired boy standing beyond the pile.

'Hi Granddad,' said Harry and gave his best ingratiating I'm-innocent-at-least-until-proven-guilty smile.

His Grandfather raised a bushy white eyebrow, there was a silence as he fumbled for something appropriate to say. Nothing came to mind and so he began to laugh - a deep appreciative rumble. Harry looked a little worried.

'Grandfather?' he queried, standing uncertainly on one leg.

'Come here, Harry,' his granddad said, beckoning with his finger. Harry hopped over his home made obstacle course to stand by the old man. 'Try not to make a habit of this, Harry,' said Dumbledore and then with one wide sweep of his arms righted everything that had been wrong in the hallway.

'This way Master Potter-Dee,' he called out merrily as he swivelled round and started down the hallway. An open mouthed awe-struck little boy obediently followed him. They stopped before one of Granddad's many doors, this one Harry did not recognise, it had been polished recently though - the round brass door handle reflected a distorted image of Harry's nose.

'Welcome!' his Granddad cried, 'to your very own bedroom!' And the door, which had apparently been reading the script, swung open before them, without so much as a push.

The first thing Harry noticed was the colour scheme, the four poster bed in the centre of the room (of more moderate size than Dumbledore's), had light blue covers and darker drapes. The huge rugs that covered the polished floor were ruby red and had great big lions pawing at invisible foes, whilst the wallpaper, was a refreshing green with a high border of Seekers chasing their Snitches.

'Look up!' prodded Dumbledore, all aglow with anticipation. Harry lifted his eyes skyward to the ceiling stretched high above, and was immediately delighted to see a blue summer's sky with fat lazy clouds drifting along. A toy plane whizzed past overhead, propellers whirling, it buzzed frantically as it flew through a cloud and drew two white streamers after it.

Dumbledore had at least stopped short of decorating the furniture; a wardrobe and a chest of drawers stored Harry's clothes, a big painted toy box sat at the end of his bed and a bedside table that stood on long ribbed skinny legs, not unlike a bird's, with a lamp floating just above it, round and smooth, like a dragon's egg.

Harry padded slowly across the room, as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes, his feet carried him across to the window on the far side of the room, typical of Hogwarts; long and wide with many panes of glass, letting plenty of the August sunlight enter the room. The wide window ledge had a big fat cushion on it for sitting and watching the edge of the forest and the excellent view of the Quidditch pitch could perhaps afford plenty of excuses to watch Quidditch being played. The little boy tugged the curtain tie absently, the curtains, falling to the floor were an unfortunate purple with yellow edgings, but this didn't seem to bother Harry.

'Harry,' said Dumbledore, 'Come over here.'

Harry obediently swivelled and returned to Dumbledore's side, his Grandfather had walked over to his bedside and had taken down a framed picture from the wall.

'This is your mother and father, Harry,' Dumbledore said gently, and handed the picture to the little boy with messy black hair. Harry took it and looked very solemnly at his parents for the very first time in his young memory, his mother was holding him in her arms, his father had his arms around them both, they were doing a silly little half-dance, and laughing as if they knew how silly they must look, they looked happy and in love, kisses being exchanged freely, baby Harry chuckling and pulling his mother's hair. Harry could not remember ever being kissed and held like that, and he felt sad for some reason, though he knew he ought to be happy to see them so, he supposed it was because they were dead and he would never know them, never get to meet them.

'I wish they were here,' he said suddenly. His granddad squeezed his shoulder gently, understanding. Harry looked over his room, which was really quite bare, the furniture did not take up much room and he had little enough belongings to fill it up, but it was light and airy, extremely colourful and most importantly, it was _his_! Abruptly, and much to Dumbledore's surprise, he burst into tears.

'Harry!' exclaimed Dumbledore, unpleasantly shocked, he guided Harry to the bed and pulled the slight child onto his lap after only a moments hesitation. 'What's wrong, child?' he asked, wrapping his arms securely around Harry and rocking him soothingly. Harry didn't reply, but after a while the storm of tears abated and he sat with his hands clenched around Dumbledore's robes, face buried in the rich fabric.

'You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to,' said Dumbledore finally, tentatively trying to find out what was wrong. Harry shook his head in Dumbledore's robes. 'Is it your parents?' he asked.

'No,' came Harry's voice, slightly muffled. 'A bit, maybe. I like my room.'

'Good.'

'You won't leave me, will you?' Harry asked suddenly.

'No dear boy, I will never leave you, I made a promise, remember?'

'But I'm not your real Grandson,' whispered Harry miserably, his secret fear surfacing.

'Yes you are,' contradicted Dumbledore. 'You are my Grandson, Harry, and I love you very very much. And that will _never_ change!'

Harry rubbed his eyes, tears trickled down unheeded as he looked up at the bright blue eyes of his adopted Granddad. 'I love you too,' he said and shyly lifted his face to unexpectedly kiss the old man and fling his arms around his neck, in a strangle hold of a hug, Albus Dumbledore returned the hug ferociously.

Harry drew back, 'for ever and ever,' he said solemnly, his Granddad looked befuddled so Harry elaborated. 'I won't leave you either, not ever, and I won't ever ever ever stop loving you.' He grinned. 'Isn't this cool? We have a family!'

And then, without further ado he slipped from his Granddad's lap to chase the toy plane around the air.

Things were not so cheerful in the corridor. Fawkes had sat patiently for twenty minutes before he starting to get fidgety, and fifteen minutes before he became rather irritated, but even later that _that_ he was furious! He screeched indignantly from his very uncomfortable cage, and banged his beak fruitlessly against Sir Urchfont's breastplate. After some time had passed, he gave up complained vocally and instead, all that could be heard was a repetitive clanging noise, that echoed down the hall way, and a suit of armour that felt like it was suffering from _very _bad indigestion.

* * *

The first night Harry slept in his own bed, he was very aware of how big it was, and how large his room was, and how far away his new Granddad was, but he was determined to be brave and bit his lip pulled the covers up high and tight and watched the stars twinkle up above on his enchanted ceiling.

Later, when little Harry had been fast asleep for quite some time, Dumbledore slipped into the room and tugged the covers straight and then bent and lightly kissed the scarred forehead good night.

* * *

'What are we doing today?' asked Harry, curiously, as his Granddad straightened his new wizarding robes that had arrived by owl that morning.

'Today, young man, we are going to an all-wizarding village called Hogsmeade!'

'Can we fly there?' Harry asked eagerly, his Granddad chuckled.

'We will be going by carriage.'

'Carriage?' repeated Harry, looking unenthusiastic. 'Is that some sort of cabbage? Do we have to eat it?'

'It's a vehicle Harry!' Dumbledore laughed.

'Oh,' said Harry, abashed. His Granddad looked up and him, and grinned.

'Can you do your shoelaces up, Harry?'

'Not very well,' he replied. 'They always come undone.'

'Try,' encouraged Dumbledore, and Harry obediently bent to tie them, the tip of his tongue stuck out and a intensively concentrated look upon his pointed face. It was a highly amusing thing to watch. 'Done?' asked hid Granddad, as he stood again, Harry shook each foot experimentally and watched with a dismal expression as they flew loose.

'Nooo,' he complained.

'Perhaps we should get you buckles,' said Dumbledore, bending to tie them for Harry, revealing his own silver shiny buckles.

'No thank you,' said Harry politely, not quite managing to hide a look of horror.

Their trip down was uneventful, it was a glorious day, typical of August, periwinkle sky with horse tail clouds stretched along the distant horizon, the Dark Forest a verdant green and the sun a gentle warmth on the back of their necks.

Their first stop was the Post Office, for the school owls were on holiday in Ibiza, and Harry was delighted to see his first ever owl up close, one was so small that the Manager let him hold it in his hand, it was very soft, and tickled.

Their second stop was even more exciting, a sweet shop called Honeydukes, and not only was Dumbledore perfectly happy for Harry to go in there, he even said he could buy some sweets to take home! They trooped in, and as soon as the shop owner, a chubby lady, saw them she went very pink (or pinker) and said that Harry could have whatever he wanted, the little dear. So Harry tried out Droobles best blowing gum, which was more fun than he could ever have imagined, Cockroach cluster, which he wasn't so keen on and Puffballs which after tasting one lifted him up into the air for several seconds, so that he could wave his feet around above the ground. They bought some of each, and some which Harry hadn't tried but liked the look of, and wanted to share with the other Professors he had made friends with in school. He particularly thought that Mr Snape would like the bat wings the picked up from Zonkos, and that Mrs McGonagall would love the glasses that made your eyes look as if they'd fallen out (much better than muggle springs, they had a charm that came into effect when you stared at something for longer than 6 seconds without blinking).

However, in The Three Broomsticks, Harry didn't have such a good time. He was drinking his half pint of iced ButterBeer with evident enjoyment, a big moustache of golden foam on his upper lip and laughing at Granddad who was trying out the 'RealRamshorn' with a child's enthusiasm. When a man with high heels on (or so it looked to Harry), white robes with a teal hem and a huge peacocks feather stuck in his perfectly permed hair, bounced up to them, and in a very loud voice said:

'Why, it _can't _be _Harry Potter_?!'

Dumbledore was unpleasantly surprised, he looked up mouth open to remedy a possibly disastrous situation when Harry got there first.

'How do you know my name?' he exclaimed, surprised.

'Why, my _dear_ boy, you _are_ famous, don't you know!'

'No,' said Harry, flatly, the stranger ignored his reply, and instead turned to the rest of the small cosy pub.

'Everybody! See who our good old Headmaster has hidden away here! It's the Boy-Who-Lived!'

There was an excited murmur, and all at once a small crowd gathered around there little corner table, people peering at little Harry nosily, trying to see his scar. Harry was bewildered, and looked behind himself to see what they saw, of course he didn't, but several of the women present gave little sighs and said 'Aww!'

Irritated, Dumbledore, whilst pleasant as ever, was slightly short with those who wanted to see Harry's scar, and absolutely forbidding with those who asked after the events that fateful night.

When he finally managed to escape, Harry and bags tucked under his arm, he was very bothered about what had happened, he was going to have to do a lot of thinking, something would have to be done. This just couldn't keep on happening.

He held Harry's ankle in the carriage home, the little black haired boy, not too disturbed by the events in the pub, had eaten too many levitating puffballs.

* * *

On Monday, September the 1st, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were due back, and on the Friday before hand, just as things were getting nice and hectic at the castle, the ever-wise Headmaster decided to announce to the world that he had adopted the Boy-Who-Lived. His timing was, as many professors agreed, typical of his nature -completely bonkers, mad, certifiably insane and probably brilliant for some reason their simple brains could not hope to comprehend. (The last being slightly sarcastic.)

'Why do we have to?' Harry asked again, as his Granddad absentmindedly tied his shoelaces together, glancing at the tall Grandfather clock, which currently read, _Time to think up a _very_ good excuse_.

'Because you're rather well known,' replied Dumbledore, understating things by just a bit.

'Why?' asked Harry, who was choosing a rather irritating time to be curious.

'Remember what I told you, about the night your parents died?'

'Oh,' said Harry. 'But-'

'Harry!' exclaimed his Granddad, an eyebrow twitching as he retied Harry's shoelaces separately. 'The scar on your head is the remainder of a curse that killed everybody else except you! Not only did you survive, but you destroyed Voldemort. _That_ is why we are doing this.'

'But why-' Harry stopped, his Granddad had just given him a _look. _'Okay,' he said brightly. 'It'll be fun.' And smiled hopefully up at the old man.

Dumbledore chuckled, it was not in his nature to be irritated at little boys with messy black hair and big green eyes for long. 'We are running late,' he explained unnecessarily, as the big clock's hand swung to: _Might as well go into hiding_.

'Why are we having it in the Great Hall?' asked Harry, curious again.

'It's big,' explained Dumbledore lightly. He stood, resplendent in midnight blue robes, his white beard luminous, his boots a surprising lime-green, and held out his hand for Harry, who sprang lightly to his feet and did a twirl so that his new Wizard robes swung out in a long arc.

'I'm Superman!' he crowed, jumping into the air.

'Um,' said Dumbledore who had never quite got this reference.

'Is Superman a wizard?' Harry asked suddenly, his Granddad was stuck and twiddled his beard.

'I'm afraid, Harry, that Superman may just be a muggle invention.'

'Who's Mr Muggle?'

Dumbledore coughed. 'Muggle Harry, is a term that wizards use to describe non-magic people. Your Aunt and Uncle for example, are muggles.'

'Oh,' said Harry looking very disappointed.

'But you Harry, are a real wizard, and you can really fly!' pointed out Albus, trying to cheer the boy up.

'But I'm not a hero,' said Harry sadly, innocently naïve of his own status.

'Well,' said Dumbledore. 'There are many heroes in the Wizarding world too, Harry, real ones, and if you like I shall tell you about a hero every night before bedtime.'

'Promise?' asked Harry.

'Promise,' agreed his Granddad, wondering when, if ever, his young Grandson would ever grow out of the need for promises.

They were trotting down the stairs to the Great Hall now and as they got closer they became aware of the noise echoing up the hallways, it sounded like many, many people were talking, shouting and calling out, creating a great racket in the school hall.

'We'll go in the teachers entrance Harry,' said Dumbledore, guiding the boy around the corner, briefly away from the clamour of sounds, into a small side door that led to a tapestry hung behind the Professors table in the Great Hall.

'Headmaster,' said a snide voice from behind them. It was Professor Snape, Harry beamed and gave a little wave that the tall man did his best to ignore.

'Severus, how many?'

'Too many to count, and they're impatient, the mood isn't all good, some think your interference with the Boy-Who-Lived, is too much.'

'Oh well,' said Dumbledore, not seeming overly perturbed.

'Are you sure it's wise to take the boy with you?' Severus Snape could not quite hide a distasteful curl of his lip.

'Boy?' asked Dumbledore quietly but with menace.

'Harry Potter.'

'Yes I do, I think it will help the mood and let them see I'm not hiding the boy away in a cupboard,' Dumbledore frowned suddenly, his reference had been entirely spontaneous.

'Well,' said Snape, his tone sounding quite unwell. 'Up to you.'

'Yes it is, Severus.' An ominous pause in which Snape looked discomforted. 'Now, aren't you going to say Hello to Professor Snape, Harry?'

'Hello, Professor Snape,' Harry obediently repeated. 'How are you today?'

Snape's jaw welded itself together, he nodded curtly at the boy, at Dumbledore, and then ran off with a swirl of his cloak, Harry looked extremely envious.

'Well,' said Dumbledore, 'Here we go, Harry.' He took Harry's hand, and took a huge breath that made his feet dance, Harry laughed at his Grandfather, and together they stepped through the tapestry into the Great Hall.

For a moment it seemed that no one had noticed them enter for the dreadful din continued until someone glanced their way and stared, mouth open and sentence abandoned. Then, like a breaking wave the silence spread throughout the Great Hall and a strange stillness descended on the hundreds of people present. In the deathly hush that now filled the hall, Dumbledore led Harry up to the middle of the table, and sat him on a tall seat that had been placed next to the Headmaster's own, and Harry could easily see everyone gathered below, looking as if they had been struck dumb by one of Granddad's spells.

The silence continued, and Harry looked up his Granddad, worried, the powerful man smiled reassuringly, looking completely comfortable and at ease, and Harry relaxed, if Granddad was okay it must be all right.

'Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,' Dumbledore greeted the assembled throng. 'May I introduce Harry Potter.'

Hundreds of heads turned to stare at Harry, who immediately felt terrified, never before had he experienced this kind of awe-struck spotlight, he looked again at his Granddad and saw the old man smile encouragingly.

'Hello,' he said timidly, but in the quiet of the hall his voice carried easily, he gave a little wave, afraid to say anything more, and immediately hundreds of flashbulbs went off, blinding him.

'If you could take a seat,' said Dumbledore, and all the grown ups looked around to see that ornate golden seats had appeared in many many rows all the way to the back of the hall, there was promptly a rather brutal rush to get the best seats, near the front.

When everybody was settled, feathers in hand, poised over naked parchment, eager, greedy looks on their faces, a Witch with yellow robes to match her hair holding up her wand like a baton and with a sign proclaiming WWN hovering above her head, Dumbledore beamed jovially around and began to speak.

'As many of you are already aware, I have recently removed young Harry from his muggle relatives care, -'

'Why'd you do that, Dumbledore?' called out a wizard whose tall pointed hat (and loud voice) made up for his short stature.

'Questions will be taken after my short statement,' said Dumbledore, ignoring the muttering audience. 'As I was saying, I have removed Harry from his previous guardians and taken over that role myself.' He paused as whispers spread the length of the sunlit room.

'I have also,' here he paused again, as if sensing the bombshell he was about to release, 'legally adopted Harry.'

There were outright cries of astonishment this time, and Harry was becoming quite concerned, what was wrong?

'I can't think of anything else you need to know,' said Dumbledore, blithely assuming an innocent tone of voice. 'So.. Questions?'

Immediately a lot of hands were thrust into the air, waving for his attention, Dumbledore pointed at a pale witch wearing dark red robes, whose banner proclaimed "European Concerns".

'Yes,' she said, clearing her throat importantly, her voice surprisingly deep. 'Why is it, Sir Dumbledore, that you have removed the Boy-Who-Lived from his muggle relatives home?'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore, who, whilst knowing this question would come had debated how to answer it. 'I'm afraid that Harry's magical abilities made his muggle relatives nervous.'

There was a brief ripple of interest, the witch continued. 'Are you saying Harry is showing signs of powerful magic?'

'I'm saying his magical abilities made his non-magical relatives, nervous, nothing more.'

The journalists digested this, quills wrote and rewrote the Headlines for tomorrow's newspaper, Dumbledore meanwhile, pointed to a Wizard whose groomed long beard had been liberally treated with Sleakeazy.

'Hem, _Daily Prophet_. Why have _you_ been chosen to guard the Boy-Who-Lived?'

'I think I'm the best possible choice, considering,' replied Dumbledore placidly.

'Don't you think your manipulation of Harry Potter, is both unfair and dangerous?'

'I do not. I am here to look after Harry's interests and will protect him against any who would do him harm,' whilst said mildly, it carried bite.

A witch in magenta robes, who was sucking the end of her quill, raised her hand and then called out, '_Considering _who you are, your job, your living situation and your status in the wizarding world, do you not think you are completely unfit to take care of a little boy? After all, he needs love, family, protection -not exposure- and most of all, he'll need you to be around, and we all know how much time you spend wondering the globe, Dumbledore. How can you look after the Boy-Who-Lived 's interests when you're in New Zealand for a Mugwumps convention, or attending a court hearing, or a Sock Appreciation Society meet!'

'Hear hear!' cried many others in the hall.

'I am perfectly capable, Ms Skeeter,' said Dumbeldore, confidently. 'My colleagues, and friends will be glad to take care of Harry for me, whilst I am away at these events.'

'Oh, excellent,' said the same lady, voice dripping with sarcasm. 'So Mr Potter will be handed around to strangers when he's not wanted, or is inconvenient!'

Another murmur filled the hall, this one louder, unpleasant looks were turning most faces sour, Dumbledore allowed his frown to enter his voice.

'Harry will be a part of a loving family here, there will be no strangers, no danger and no neglect.'

'So you say, but you live in a _school_, Dumbledore! A thousand pupils attend Hogwarts, what's one more little boy to you? I doubt you'll even know he's there!' Ms Skeeter had an attentive audience now.

'Not so,' denied Dumbledore. 'This little boy is my grandson, it makes a great deal of difference.'

'Isn't it asking too much of you?' asked another wizard, this one with a heavy American accent, broad shoulders and bushy moustache. 'You are old, and as already pointed out, you have more than enough children in your care for two thirds of the year, plus your other duties take up a lot of your time, can you really say that you have the space for another complication in your life? Can you give Harry Potter what he needs?'

'I can, and I will.'

The crowd disagreed, vociferously, Ms Skeeter jumped into the breach again, gleefully holding her large garish quill aloft.

'We will not accept you as the Boy-Who-Lived's guardian! The Wizarding world will do right by Harry Potter! We will see him happy and well-provided for, and these things you just cannot provide!' she spoke the last almost airily, and people began to clap in agreement, a rhythmic beating.

'You are in error, Ms Skeeter I am fully capable,' said Dumbledore, calm despite the spiralling attitude in the hall.

'Whether you are or not,' said Ms Skeeter spitefully. 'We will not have you!'

The clapping had gotten very loud a steady, derisive beat, a pounding noise announcing to the world their opinion, their belief that Dumbledore just wouldn't do, he had gone too far this time.

Harry had grown steadily more alarmed throughout this meeting, listening to the comments in horror, but finally towards the end, he had become angry, and now, furious, he stood up on his chair and stamped his small foot. Of course no one heard, the clapping was so loud that even Ms Skeeter's comments were unintelligible.

'Shut up!' he shouted, unheard. 'Be quiet!' but still no one paid him any heed. Harry had never been so furious in his life! How dare these people be rude to his Granddad, how _dare_ they doubt him? They had no right! With a wordless shout he lashed out, his magic bursting forth, suddenly and powerfully setting alight everybody's Quills, Ms Skeeter's hair also unfortunately caught fire, which resulted in a few frantic moments of beating, and frantic flapping.

In the oppressive, surprised silence that fell, everyone turned to look at Harry whose fists were clenched by his sides.

'Leave my Granddad alone!' he shouted, tears of rage in his eyes. 'He's the best Granddad, _ever_! I'm not going anywhere, he's _my_ Granddad and you can't take him away from me!'

The astonishment on everybody's faces was plain. The little boy had been so quiet they had forgotten he was there. They reached for new quills absentmindedly, shaking off the ashes of the old from their parchment notes.

'You can't!' Harry emphasised again, less loudly this time, as his anger faded and tears loomed large on the horizon.

'Alright Harry,' said Dumbledore, soothingly. 'Come here, no one's going to take me away.' He reached across and lifted the stiff, upset boy into his lap. 'Nobody.'

Hundreds of cameras flashed as Albus Dumbledore hugged the Boy-Who-Lived close, hundreds of photos would tomorrow, proclaim to the world what the two already knew: They were a family, a fiercely protective one, and woe betide anyone daring to interfere!

* * *

A/N: I have suffered the _worst_ writer's block _ever _with this chapter. I still don't know if I hate it or I… hate it. I am reeeally sorry for the looog delay, but if it helps, at some points I was incredibly desperate! I love you guys for your continued support and fantastic reviews, I really don't deserve you!

There were so many reviewers that I have decided not to reply, it would simply take me too long and I want to get this uploaded! I would, however, really like to say, 'hi, I'm the mad writer who had an atrocious update history' so if you think it's a good idea, I'll set up a yahoo group or something, at least then I can get some help with my writers block, I'm sure you'd all have loads of ideas!

I would like to write a sequel (it was only this chapter that was so bad), and will be looking into writing the first chapter soon. The final chapter of this fic will be up in 2 weeks time (it's already written! WooHoo!).

Have some iced Butterbeer on me! ;-)


	11. Welcome To Hogwarts!

_Author weeps The last chapter! wail_

Hand-Me-Down Clothes

**Chapter Eleven**

'No, Harry, I'm sorry but I've got to catalogue the broomsticks ready for the first years,' said Mrs Hooch, her hair shockingly straight.

'But can't I go out on my own?' implored Harry.

'No! Certainly not! Unsupervised flying is strictly forbidden!' snapped Madame Hooch, who was currently measuring the Quidditch goal posts with a tape measure that was panting from the exertion of clambering 50 feet up.

'But -' said Harry.

'You're too young!' added Madame Hooch, making Harry scowl, he hating being young, it seemed to be the reason he couldn't do anything.

'But-' he said again.

'_Harry!_' exclaimed Madame Hooch, hawk-like eyes wild. 'I'm too busy right now to go flying! Go and bother your Grandfather!'

'He told me to come and ask you if I could go flying,' Harry told her innocently.

Madame Hooch muttered something under her breath that made the tape measure briefly flush blue.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' she said, a little gentler. 'Why don't you go and see what Professor McGonagall is doing?'

'Okay,' sighed Harry, he turned around.

'Oh, and Harry,' Mrs Hooch called after him.

'Yes?'

'Don't tell her I sent you.'

There was a loud banging noise and an untidy thud-thudding sound from down the corridor outside Professor McGonagall's classroom, a moment later her door squeaked open and a dark-haired little boy slipped in.

'Hello, Mrs McGonagall!'

'Hello Harry,' said Mrs McGonagall, quite calmly.

'What are you doing?' Harry asked, beaming at finally receiving a non-antagonistic greeting. He scrambled up onto a chair on the other side of the desk at which she was seated, Mrs McGonagall was holding a long feather in one hand and a long piece of parchment was stretched out along her desk. In fact, it was so long that Harry noticed it ran off the table, under her chair, up the black board and part way along the ceiling, before curling up.

'Wow,' he said, Mrs McGonagall looked up to catch his gaze, and smiled.

'My check-list,' she explained.

'Check-list for what?' asked Harry, reaching forward to tickle the end of her quill - which giggled girlishly.

'My check-list for the beginning of the new school term; it helps me to make sure that I have everything ready for the students and staff.'

'Oh,' said Harry. He lifted up her silver inkpot and the parchment it had been resting on immediately began to roll up - Professor McGonagall caught it just in time - she put the inkwell back on top of the resisting paper.

'How would you like to run some errands for me, Harry?' she suggested mildly.

'What do you mean?' asked Harry cautiously.

'Well, for example, I need someone to take a note down to Professor Flitwick, who is probably in his charms classroom, or the staff room. Could you do that Harry?'

'Yes!'

'Excellent,' said Professor McGonagall, briskly. She reached into her desk and took out a fresh piece of parchment, quickly she scribbled a note (a suitably serious expression on her face), made sure to tie it securely with a big piece of red ribbon and handed it to Harry. 'Quickly now,' she told him. 'It is essential that Filius has this piece of information; don't delay! And beware the suits of armour, they're feeling playful today.'

'I won't let you down, Mrs McGonagall,' said Harry, a big smile on his face.

'I know you won't, Harry,' McGonagall assured him; her lips barely twitched.

Funnily enough, Professor Flitwick also had an urgent errand for Harry to run, this time to Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher. Mrs Vector made Harry nervous; every time he had to spend time in her company she tried to tell him how exciting geometry was. No matter what she said, he had a funny feeling that magical geometry was an acquired taste that he didn't possess, but he was too polite to tell her so.

Professor Vector however, was practically hidden amongst the biggest piles of rulers Harry had ever seen, and strangely, lots of them weren't straight at all, but did loop-the-loops or made you cross eyed trying to find the end.

'Yes yes,' she said, fighting off an enthusiastic rubber. 'Take this to Filch, will you Harry? I don't know what it's doing in here.' She handed him a broom with bristles both ends.

'Okay, Professor Vector,' he agreed, quite happy to dash around the magical castle in search of the grumpy caretaker. It took longer to find Mr Filch than it had to find the others, the scowling man was struggling to control a suit of armour that was half polished.

'Do you want any help?' Harry asked, curiously.

'No,' Filch grunted, doing an elaborate two-step with the armour. 'Whad'ya want?'

'Professor Vector wanted me to give you this.'

Filch glanced briefly in Harry's direction and was rewarded by a twirl from the suit of armour, he spun out and past Harry, mouldy robes a flying.

'Oh, that,' he said ungraciously. 'Put it down over there.'

Harry did he was told and watched as the suit of armour manhandled Filch into an energetic tango.

'Ungh! It's no -damn- use. Pass me that elbow grease, boy.'

A big black tin pot sat a little way off and when Harry approached he noticed that it had '_Elbow Grease'_ written in elaborate curls, he was intrigued, but when he opened it up, all he saw was a black sludge, not unlike boot polish. It helped Mr Filch though, with just a bit of _Elbow Grease_ slicked onto his arms he was able to quickly subdue the hyperactive suit of armour. Harry enjoyed the show immensely, he _loved_ this magical world.

'Why'd they do that?' Harry asked.

'Damn things're ticklish,' snarled Filch, picking up his cloth and silver polish again, he stopped suddenly. 'What you still doing 'ere?' he glared.

'Did you want me to run an errand for you, Mr Filch? I can, you know.'

'Aye. Actually … go down to the Gamekeeper's hut, see if he's back yet, lazy lump, an tell 'im his new keys are back from the key smith.'

'All right,' said Harry. 'Where's the gamekeeper's hut?'

'In the grounds, out the front door.'

'All right,' agreed Harry, amicably, not at all concerned by the lack of direction.

He took the stairs two at a time, (once nearly three -but the castle stretched itself to catch him), and at a very fast run, he ran so fast the pictures were a blur, in fact, he ran so fast that it took him a minute or so to realise he'd crashed.

'All righ' there?' boomed the large thing he'd crashed into. A hand the size of a muggle dustbin lid hoisted him up by his shirt. 'Well I never!' exclaimed Hagrid, upon seeing his would-be tackler. Harry swallowed hard and looked up, and up, into beetle black eyes and a wild mass of hair, this man was a _giant_!

'Um,' said Harry, scared stiff -he backed away slowly. 'Who are you?'

'Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys an' Grounds at Hogwarts,' beamed Hagrid.

'Oh!' said Harry, brightening. 'Are you the Gamekeeper too?'

'Yep, that's me!' Hagrid chortled. 'An' yeh're Lily and James' son!'

'How'd you know that?' wondered Harry.

''cos I knew 'em, that's how!'

'You knew my mum and dad?' Harry's fear abruptly disappeared in the face of such sturdy approbation. 'Oh, Mr Filch said your keys are back.'

'Righ',' nodded the huge man.

They paused, and looked at each other.

'Wanna come an' see me dog? I got a boarhound, his name is Fang, but 'e's a softie really.'

'Can I?' asked Harry, eagerly.

''course! Piggy back?'

Harry looked up to the broad shoulders of this wild man, they looked very, very high up. 'Okay.' he said, extra-determined in the face of his fear.

'Tha's me lad!' roared Hagrid in approval, and with one huge hand flung Harry up onto his massive shoulders, making the boy squeak in shock. They set off.

'How are yeh finding Hogwarts, Harry?' Hagrid asked him.

'It's great!' said Harry, sounding breathless, hanging on to Hagrids great mane of hair for dear life.

'Yeh'll like it better when the students arrive, busy, noisy too.'

'Granddad said the students get put into four houses.'

'Yeah, Gryffindor -tha's yer parents old house- for the brave, Ravenclaw's for the ones with brains, Hufflepuff is nice enough, full o' duffers if you ask me.'

'What's the fourth?' asked Harry, wondering what a duffer was.

'Slytherin,' snarled Hagrid.

'That's a cool name,' said Harry innocently.

'Eh? T'aint! Students in Slytherin aren't too nice, Harry, ambitious, sly lot. Yeh watch yourself around 'em, all righ'?'

'All right,' agreed Harry, somewhat startled by the change of tone in the Gamekeepers voice.

They approached a small circular building, made of stone with a big wooden door, nestled against the forest, and with a large vegetable patch -full of the biggest pumpkins Harry had ever seen.

'Welcome, to my home,' said Hagrid warmly, and from inside a deep resounding 'Woof' sounded; Fang had heard his master arrive.

* * *

There was something off about the staff room today, Harry decided, as he peered around, it was the smell, he realised, something smelt awfully weird, like mouldy old cheese, left in the rain. Harry was on the watch for somewhere safe to hide from Mrs McGonagall and Granddad, who had been muttering something about baths and a change of robes. Even though magical baths were _much_ more fun that the ones Aunt Petunia had given him (half an inch of tepid water and a bar of soap), he still didn't see the need to have one this afternoon. He'd had one last night after all!

He settled on the window seat to watch the steadily darkening sky and wait for the glitter of lights that would herald the arrival of the students.

'Harry Potter?'

The small boy jumped out of his skin, he hadn't heard anyone enter; a pale young man with a dark purple turban coiled heavily around his head now stood before the glittering fireplace.

'Who are you?' Harry asked, a little nervously.

'Who am I? More to the point, why, oh why, dear boy, are you _here_? Here!'

'Granddad adopted me,' explained Harry. 'Mr Dumbledore -?'

'_Dumbledore,_' the man spit out the name, disgust evident; Harry was shocked.

'I - - sorry,' he apologised, not quite sure why.

'It _is you!'_ the stranger hissed, not unlike Mr Snape had.

Harry smiled in what he hoped was a disarming manner, 'I don't know you,' he said, when the silence grew too protracted for his liking. The strange smell was cloying and unpleasant.

An eerie high-pitched hiss came from the man as he stepped forward, translucent fingers stretched towards him, eyes bulging white, wide -

A burst of flame and Fawkes reared between the two figures, light exploded into life over the shadowy tableau of a stone grey room.

Harry shouted, punching the air with a child's enthusiasm for the fantastic; naïve of any threatening undertones.

A whisper, a withdrawal, a pause for breath:

'I am Professor Quirrell, I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.'

'Cool!' said Harry, excitedly, he ran a hand down the soft feathers of Fawkes' regal plumage.

The door creaked open.

'_There_ you are Harry! I thought I heard you.' It was Professor McGonagall. 'Come along, it's time for your bath. Fawkes! Keeping an eye on him? Good!'

Harry made a face.

'Oh, Professor Quirrell! You're back! How was Transylvania?' McGonagall smiled politely.

'F-fine, t-thank you, P-p-professor McGonagall.'

'Good! No doubt we shall hear all about it later. Come, Harry,' and she beckoned imperiously, holding the door open. Harry obediently followed, but cast a curious look back; Professor Quirrell hadn't stuttered once during their entire exchange.

* * *

'So what should you do, Harry?'

'Sit still, be quiet and… um, don't bug Granddad when he's talking.'

'Very good!' smiled Professor McGonagall, she straightened the collar of his blue robes.

'Will I have to be quiet all the time, Mrs McGonagall?'

'No Harry, of course not. Just when Albus is addressing the students.'

Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall, Harry trotting alongside her, up ahead the Professors were taking their places, a low murmur of conversation warming the air.

'Mrs McGonagall?' Harry ventured.

'Yes, Harry?'

'Will I still be able to sit with you, in classes?'

'Sometimes Harry, but sometimes not, my classes are very dangerous, even for big boys.'

'Oh.' There was a brief pause. 'What will happen to me then?'

'You'll be learning your own lessons, just like in Muggle School.'

'Just like?' asked Harry sounding exceedingly gloomy.

'Well, maybe not "just like",' smiled Mrs McGonagall taking pity on the boy beside her. 'Some of the professors have offered to teach you in their spare time.'

'Really?'

'Really,' chuckled McGonagall.

'Will I learn magic?'

'That will be up to your Granddad.'

'Can I get a dragon?'

'No!'

'A toad?'

'You want a toad?'

'Um… no.'

Mrs McGonagall suppressed a laugh and greeted Professor Sinistra, it was not long before a small hand tugged on her robes.

'Can I have an owl?'

'Ah-'

'A cat?'

'Ask your grandfather.'

'A _tarantula_?'

'Harry-'

'Can I have a wand?'

'Not until you're eleven.'

'Why?'

'That's the law, no underage wizards.'

'Why not?'

'Because doing magic when you don't have the proper knowledge can be very dangerous.'

'Oh.'

Professor McGonagall went back to telling Professor Sprout why her new classroom was better than the old.

'We have more students than ever this year, you need the extra space, S-'

'So I can't do _any_ magic?'

'Whuh?' said McGonagall, distracted from her main line of reasoning. 'No. My dear professor, you must see how tight the Ministry have been this year, we can barely afford the dusters for -_What is it Harry?'_

'None at all?' asked Harry, aghast.

'Dusters?' wondered McGonagall, confused.

'Magic!' corrected Harry, wide eyed.

'Oh… I said ask your granddad.'

'He's not here,' complained Harry.

'Oh yes he is,' rumbled Professor Dumbledore's voice from behind him, Harry gave a squeal as the Headmaster turned him upside down magically.

'Headmaster!' exclaimed McGonagall, looking rather relieved, Harry's robes fluttered into wrinkles around his waist, revealing a pair of slightly muddy trainers and jeans.

'Good evening, Minerva. Should you not be greeting our first years around about… now?'

'Oh, goodness me! Hagrid! The first years!' And Mrs McGonagall hurried off down the aisles, emerald robes flicking out behind her.

The Headmaster bent down to look at Harry who was giggling from floor level.

'And have we been a good boy?' he enquired, very seriously indeed.

'Yes!' reported Harry, whose cheeks were going cherry. 'Can I do magic Granddad?'

'You're a magical boy aren't you?'

Severus Snape, passing, snorted; he was ignored, Filius Flitwick found the show immensely amusing, and charmed Snape's fork into an irritating tap dance as the man sat down.

'Yes,' affirmed Harry.

'Well then! Turn yourself the right way up - unless you wish to attempt eating your soup like so. I can pour it down your nose if you would like?' Dumbledore pursed his lips, raised an eyebrow and straightened his aching back.

'Ewww!' said Harry, fascinated and disgusted at the idea.

There was a moment of suspicious silence as the staff watched surreptitiously from their various placements along the table.

'What kind of soup is it?' asked Harry after a while.

'Pea,' replied Dumbledore, blithely, his moustache quivering.

The boy grimaced, pea soup upside down didn't sound too fun, and he frowned in thought.

'What do I do?'

'Stand up,' said Dumbledore, as if it were the easiest thing to do in the world, and Harry, believing, turned himself upright, in the barest blink of an eye. 'Well done!' approved Dumbledore, taking the now very messy haired boy's hand and leading him to their seats, there was noise from beyond the Hall doors.

'So I _can_ do magic?' Harry beamed as Dumbledore plopped him on top his new seat, set higher than the staffs so that the boy might reach the table.

'Under proper supervision, yes, and only if you promise to be very good for your new teachers, no turning their hair blue!'

Harry blushed.

A sallow voice interrupted. 'It's against the law.'

'Exceptions have been made before,' smiled Dumbledore, pointedly not looking in Severus Snape's direction, Harry had no such qualms, he put his elbow in some butter leaning forward to beam at the man.

'Will you teach me, Mr Snape?' he inquired innocently.

'Why I think that's an excellent idea!' said Dumbledore.

'Why yes, Severus,' said Filius, 'Bravo!'

'Good for you,' concurred Professor Sprout grinning.

'Jolly good show,' agreed Professor Binns, with no idea what he was agreeing to, in fact it was doubtful he had yet noticed Harry's arrival.

The large doors swung open and a sudden flush of black robed people swept into the hall, claiming ownership to seats, a rolling crescendo of noise ran before them; laughter, arguments, teasing. The students had arrived!

The Headmaster's speech this year was, of necessity, slightly less peculiar than usual, whilst the world knew the Boy Who Lived was now living at Hogwarts, some comment had to be made to the actual fact.

'… Mr Filch tells me that Flauberts have a new pranks-list out, and he is aware of _all _its pertinent details.

Ah, as I am sure you have noticed, we have a new addition to the staff table, my grandson, Harry Potter.'

He paused, whispers rippled out and then an attentive silence fell.

'Harry is very new to this magical world of ours and so I would ask you to keep an eye out for him, otherwise, I doubt you will cross paths overly much.'

He paused again, Harry had tugged on his sleeve, and he bent to hear what the boy had to say and then turned to readdress the students.

'Harry wishes to say "Hello".'

There was a collective _Awww_ from the female population, whilst the boys rolled their eyes and some of the Slytherins scowled unpleasantly, Harry smiled faintly from behind his Granddad's voluminous robes; too intimidated to wave.

'Oh yes, and Professor Sprout's classroom has moved, it is now 145d.

Now all that remains is for me to wish you a very successful term, full of fun, surprises and furbies' (he received a few odd looks from muggle-born students).

'Welcome,' he said, flinging his arms wide and knocking a soup tureen over. 'To _Hogwarts_!'

* * *

_Author's Notes_

And this is where I leave you, for now! I'm sad to say I will be taking a leave of absence from the Harry Potter world, fan fiction and all, at least for a time. For a while now I've had difficulty writing with the same sort of enthusiasm as I did at the beginning, and my desire to read fan fiction has also faded. I'm sure it's only temporary, but with Uni demanding a lot more from me; exams, essays... blood…, and student life.. Well, I have no _time_!

So I just want to say a great big, loving **Thank You! **To all of my wonderful, wonderful reviewers, of whom there are now so many, I cannot reply or name you all as you deserve. It is for you that I finish this fic, and to you, that I will return!

I really hope you all enjoyed this fic, and yes, I do love it, it's been funny to write, aggravating perhaps, but always enjoyable! A sequel when I return? Perhaps, but no promises!

Hugs and Chocolate Frogs to you all!

Quillitch

x


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